


The Stranger

by honeyMellon



Category: Bleach
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyMellon/pseuds/honeyMellon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo is staying with his uncle, who operates a store along a rarely-travelled road. It's a peaceful, relaxing place, until a mysterious stranger shows up at their doorstep, injured and unconscious. COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ichigo let out a breathless grunt as he set a wooden crate on the floor in the store room. He straightened up and stretched his back, wincing when his joints popped and cracked like he was an old man. It had been a long day, and he was tired, hungry, and thirsty…and did he mention tired?

"Wow, and I thought  _I_  was old," Tessai deadpanned as he, too, placed a similar-sized crate in the room.

Ichigo shot his uncle's best friend a dirty look before stretching some more. Those were the last crates they had in the back of Tessai's truck, so they were done for the day. The timing was perfect—the last of the sunlight had just disappeared behind the faraway mountains.

Ichigo took a step back and eyed the store room. Crates and boxes of all sizes filled the room, covering most of the floor and lined up on shelves upon shelves. Ichigo had no doubt that his uncle would not run out of stock for many, many months.

Uncle Kisuke operated a convenience store and gas station along a rarely travelled road. Why the man would pick such a desolate place to open a store was beyond Ichigo, but then again the man had always been…a bit eccentric, to put it kindly.

Ichigo had only visited his uncle a few times when he was growing up, but when Kisuke found out that he needed to get away from home for a while, the man had graciously offered him a place to stay. Ichigo had just finished high school and was in that awkward stage of figuring out what to do next. His father wanted him to go to med school, but Ichigo had his heart set on studying music. After fighting over this issue countless of times, they had reached an impasse, and Ichigo was willing to do anything if it meant he could be out of the house.

Including living out here in the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

"Come on," Tessai rumbled, giving Ichigo a friendly smack on the back of the head. "Let's see what Kisuke has made for dinner."

If they were lucky, it would  _not_  be another one of his experiments. The last time Uncle Kisuke was in an adventurous mood, the three of them had had to fight over the bathroom throughout the night. Ichigo would very much like  _not_  to experience that again.

As it was, he took a tentative step into the kitchen and sniffed the air. "Smells safe," he reported to Tessai, who let out a snicker behind him.

"Ah, you're so cruel, Ichigo," a voice floated softly from the kitchen.

"Uncle Juushirou!" Ichigo laughed, not bothering to conceal his relief. "I didn't know you're making dinner today!"

A tall, slender man looked up with a raised eyebrow from his position in front of the gas stove. His straight white hair was tied into a pony tail at the base of his neck, so long that it reached down almost to his waist. A few stray strands framed his open, friendly face.

Ichigo slapped his forehead with a groan. "Sorry, sorry… _Juushirou_."

"Honestly," Juushirou shook his head with a smile. "Sometimes I think you do it on purpose."

"I dare say that's  _exactly_  what he's doing," another voice piped up cheerfully from the stairs. A moment later, its owner stepped into view, sporting a serious case of bed head.

Juushirou smirked as he started to pour chicken soup into four bowls that were laid out neatly on the counter top. "Well, good morning to you."

Kisuke laughed sheepishly and slunk over to his partner's side. "Thank you for cooking," he said before stealing a quick peck on Juushirou's cheek.

Ichigo made a face at Tessai, who simply shrugged with a small smile. Kisuke had the bad habit of being overly affectionate in front of people, and it apparently never occurred to him that his nephew would rather not see him molest his lover in front of his eyes, despite Ichigo's not-so-subtle hints. Or it could be that he simply wanted to rub it in Ichigo's face, knowing how painfully  _single_  Ichigo was.

Anyhow, Ichigo decided not to comment, lest he provoke his uncle's mischievous streak. He quickly prepared the table, setting places for four. Between him and Kisuke, dishes soon filled up the small dining table, and then they dug in.

"We have all the new stock put away," Tessai reported between mouthfuls of rice and broiled mackerel.

Kisuke grinned. "Wonderful! Those jelly-filled candies arrived I hope?"

Ichigo snorted. "Yes, they have," he said. He didn't understand why his uncle liked those so much, to the point of importing them all the way from Japan. It wasn't like it would sell very well here. They didn't get customers often, and when they did, it was usually lone truckers—hardly the target market for cute Japanese sweets.

The rest of the conversation revolved around cataloguing the new stock and reevaluating the old ones. Ichigo sat quietly and listened. It was always amusing to see the good friends interact, seeing as to how different they were: Tessai was a tall, burly man with tanned skin and black cornrowed hair; his face mostly obscured by his thick eyebrows, glasses, and handle bar mustache. Kisuke, on the other hand, was slender and had shaggy blond hair and large grey eyes that could easily switch from childish humor to murderous in a blink of an eye. Juushirou, Kisuke's partner of eleven years, was more on the quiet side; his failing health giving him a gaunt, seemingly-weak appearance, but Ichigo knew that behind those gentle green eyes, lay a sharp mind that could easily outwit even Kisuke.

Tessai had many roles here, serving as Kisuke's assistant on good days, and as Juushirou's physician on bad ones. Kisuke owned and managed the store, while Juushirou helped when he could. There really wasn't much left for Ichigo to do, so his time here was very relaxing—just the thing he needed. It gave him plenty of time to think.

"Ichigo?"

Ichigo jerked in his seat and lifted his head to find the three older men looking at him in concern.

"Are you alright, Ichigo?" Juushirou asked. "I've asked you three times if you wanted more tea…"

"Sorry," Ichigo scratched the back of his head, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. "Yeah, thanks. More tea, please." He pushed his tea cup towards Juushirou and nodded his gratitude once it was refilled. He was about to lift the cup to his lips when his ears picked up something. Instinctively, he turned and tilted his head to the side.

"What is it?" his uncle asked at once.

Ichigo remained still for a few more seconds, then he turned back and shook his head. "I thought I heard something, but—"

A dull thud rang out suddenly from somewhere in the front of the store.

Juushirou set down the teapot and moved to stand up, but Ichigo stopped him. "I'll get it," he said, pushing his chair back.

He walked briskly from the dining room into the small living room, then through the doorway that led out to the store. Whatever that was, it didn't sound like someone knocking on the door. It sounded, if he had to describe it, like something heavy landing on a hard surface. As he approached the front door, he slowed down unconsciously, his pulse beginning to speed up at the thought of the unknown.

He flipped on the switch for the porch light and turned back to see the others following behind him curiously.

They were, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere.  _Something_  was on the other side of this door, and Ichigo hadn't the slightest clue what it could possibly be.

The lights outside flickered for a few seconds before staying on. Ichigo swallowed and took a deep breath, then, in one swift movement, yanked the door open.

There, sprawled face-down on the steps in front of the store, was a man; one of his arms stretched out in front of him, as if he had passed out right as he was about to knock on the door.

"Tessai!" Ichigo cried out, swooping down to the man's side immediately.

Tessai crouched down on the other side and did a quick visual inspection of their unconscious visitor. Ichigo watched as Tessai went into doctor mode; the older man's brows furrowed in concentration as he gently prodded and squeezed the stranger's head, neck, limbs, and back.

"Let's get him inside," Tessai said, gesturing to Ichigo for help.

Ichigo grabbed the man's shoulders and rolled him onto his back. He almost gasped out loud when the man's face was finally revealed. More than half of the man's face was covered in blood, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. The strands of hair that fell over his forehead was an eye-catching sky blue.

Even as Ichigo processed all of this, he thought of asking, "Is it safe to move him?"

Tessai nodded. "It should be. He'd walked here, look."

Sure enough, there was a trail of messy foot prints leading up to the porch, but it was too dark for Ichigo to see where it began. There was nothing out there: no vehicle, no sign of anyone else, not even the slightest trace of wind. It was like this man had materialized out of thin air.

Grunting in unison, they lifted the stranger together and carried him inside; Kisuke directing them to the nearest room—which happened to be Ichigo's. The man's head lolled limply to the side when he was set down gently onto the mattress. Here, under the bright florescent light, his wounds became clearer. There was a nasty gash on his forehead and another one at the back of his head, the eyelid of his swollen eye a raw pink, a bruise already forming across one of his cheekbones, his lips split and bleeding. It was impossible to tell what he originally looked like.

That was only his face. Ichigo couldn't tell if he was injured beneath the neck because of what he was wearing—a bulky jacket; the brown leather weathered and tattered in places; dark-wash jeans covered in dirt. His feet were bare but looked intact.

Kisuke stepped out of the room and came back minutes later with a small pail and a stack of clean cloth in one hand. His other hand carried a bag of Tessai's medical supplies.

"Wait outside," Tessai said curtly as he took out a pair of scissors from his bag, ready to cut the man's shirt open to assess his injuries.

Ichigo opened his mouth to protest, but his arm was tugged gently by Juushirou.

"There's no use for all of us to crowd around the man, Ichigo," the older man said.

That actually made sense, so Ichigo grudgingly let Juushirou steer him out to the hallway. Without a word, Kisuke slid the door closed.

"I wonder what happened to the poor man," Juushirou said, talking more to himself than to Ichigo. "Those look terribly painful."

Ichigo grunted in agreement, feeling oddly restless. He didn't understand how the others could be so calm about this; maybe getting older does cause people to mellow out.

Tessai and Kisuke were in there for what felt like hours; Ichigo paced up and down the hallway, cooking up all possible explanations that he could think of in his head. Maybe the man had a car accident and somehow managed to drag himself here, or maybe somebody had run him over and simply dumped him at the nearest building they could find, or maybe the man had fallen from an airplane—okay, he knew that one was stretching it, but he was fidgety and curious, alright?

Just as he was entertaining the thought that it may be a botched alien abduction, the door finally opened, and Kisuke stepped out.

"Still unconscious," the blonde reported, looking a little grim. "We won't be able to know the full extent of his head injury until he wakes up, but Tessai suspects he has at least a mild concussion, judging from how his pupils reacted. We'll just have to check on him every hour until he wakes up."

"Maybe we should call for an ambulance," Ichigo said with a frown.

* * *

Kisuke knew his nephew only meant well, so he didn't take offense. "It will take six hours for the nearest ambulance to get here, and then it will take the same amount of time for it to get back to the city," he explained. "Tessai is a very good doctor, and we have all the equipment we need here."

Ichigo looked flustered and turned pink in the face. "No…that's not what I meant, I wasn't doubting Tessai or anything," he sputtered with a look of panic.

"I know," Tessai rumbled good-naturedly, appearing behind his best friend.

Kisuke would've laughed at Ichigo's embarrassment if he wasn't so distracted by something else, but he offered a smile anyway, just in case the young man would find his reaction suspicious. He kept his hand pressed against his side, thankful that he was wearing his usual loose attire.

He was thankful because otherwise, he wouldn't be able to hide the pistol that was currently tucked in the waistband of his pants, which he had just extracted from the waistband of  _his_  jeans—that mysterious man, who seemed to have all the traits of someone running from the law.

That explanation seemed to be sufficient to placate Ichigo, and the boy fell silent. Kisuke exchanged a brief, meaningful look with his partner, silently promising that he would tell him everything later.

Although Kisuke decided to keep the discovery of the weapon from Ichigo for now, he saw no reason to hide what he had found in the man's jacket pocket: a thin, black leather wallet that contained a grand total of thirteen dollars, and most importantly, a driver's license.

The photo on the license was grainy and a little washed out, but the strong jaw and baby blue hair was unmistakable.

 _Grimmjow Jaegerjaques_. Birthday, July 31st; aged 36. Male (obviously). His address indicated that he lived far, far away from here.

Kisuke was highly doubtful that this was the man's real name, but it was the only clue they had. He was wary of the stranger but had no choice but to take the man in. Where else could the man go out here? Kisuke may not be the most compassionate man in the world, but even he didn't have the heart to leave someone out in the wild like this.

"What the hell kind of name is that?" Ichigo mused out loud.

Kisuke chuckled. "I haven't the slightest clue," he said. He was being truthful. Never had he ever come across a name as exotic as this.

"We'll just have to wait for him to tell us, don't we?"

* * *

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

They decided on a simple roster to take care of the man. By the time it was Ichigo's turn, it was already close to midnight.

Grimmjow remained out cold, lying on Ichigo's bed on his back with his eyes closed, his long eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. The only sign that differentiated him from a corpse was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Ichigo wrung the towelette thoroughly to get rid of access water and brought it over to the man's forehead. His body temperature was hovering a few degrees above normal, and it had stubbornly remained so even after Tessai administered intravenous Acetaminophen. Ichigo dabbed the towel all over the man's face and grimaced when the cloth became warm within seconds. Grimmjow's face was flushed from the fever, the fierce pink tint clearly visible under the cuts and bruises that marred his skin.

Being so close to the stranger, Ichigo couldn't help but study the man's facial features. It was difficult to see through the injuries at first, but it was getting more and more obvious—the graceful arc of his brows, the high cheekbones, the supple lips, the strong angular jaw. This was, no doubt, a very good looking man.

Ichigo didn't understand why that would make any difference, but as soon as he came to that realization, he felt his pulse spike abruptly. He immediately felt silly, but he couldn't stop his heart from pounding wildly in his chest. He let out a long breath slowly to calm himself, chastising himself inwardly for being so immature.

Ichigo tore his eyes away from Grimmjow's face, only to find himself looking at the man's bare chest. It was relatively unscathed except for a long thin gash across the stomach, but Tessai had left him naked above the waist in the hopes that it would help decrease his body temperature. Since his jeans was destroyed by Tessai's scissors, they had dressed him in a pair of Kisuke's loose-fitting sleeping shorts.

Judging from his perfectly sculpted torso and broad, firm chest, Grimmjow was someone who either worked out diligently or had a job that was physically demanding. He had just the right balance of muscle tone; not overly ripped like a weightlifter, nor long and lean like a swimmer.

Suddenly realizing that he was practically drooling, Ichigo gave his own face a rough rub. When had he become such a hopeless pervert?

It must be Uncle Kisuke.

After a few minutes, he finally felt calm enough to continue tending to the unconscious stranger. Despite his effort to suppress his curiosity, he found himself pondering the same questions over and over again. What would they learn when Grimmjow wakes up? What kind of person was he? How would he react? And most importantly, how on earth did he end up  _here_?

As the clock ticked away, the door was suddenly opened from the outside. Ichigo looked up to see his uncle peeking into the room.

"No change?" Kisuke mouthed.

Ichigo shook his head and gestured to the prone figure on the bed. He placed a palm on his own forehead and pointed a finger to the ceiling.

Kisuke gave the man a worried look. Ichigo knew what his uncle must be thinking. If Grimmjow's fever didn't go down soon, they would be in a sticky situation. Without knowing his medical history, and seeing that he had extensive head injuries, it would be risky to give him any more fever suppressant so soon after the last dose.

Ichigo put the towelette away and stood up. "I'll stay with him, you guys should go to bed," he offered. This was his room after all.

His uncle didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked uncertain.

Ichigo didn't understand why his uncle was behaving so strangely. And he  _was_  behaving strangely. Kisuke had been oddly quiet since the stranger arrived. Normally, the blonde was a light-hearted person. He's often acted like an idiot, but he was a decisive man.

"I'll call for you guys if anything changes," Ichigo insisted. "I can handle it."

Kisuke gave him a look, his expression inscrutable. Ichigo was beginning to feel impatient when his uncle finally nodded. Not wanting to disturb their visitor any further, Kisuke patted Ichigo on the shoulder and stepped out of the room. Ichigo closed the door gently and turned back to the bed. He felt a pang of worry; Kisuke's anxiety had rubbed off on him.

He knew there would be no sleep for him tonight, but he spread out a sleeping bag on the floor next to his bed anyway. The bed frame was low, he could see Grimmjow from his position on the floor. Stifling a yawn, Ichigo swept Grimmjow's blue-colored bangs away from his forehead one last time, then he settled onto his sleeping bag and closed his eyes.

* * *

Ichigo wasn't sure what woke him up. He cracked his eyes open groggily, trying to make sense of his surroundings. For a moment, he was confused to find himself on the floor, then just as he remembered the reason, he heard a soft, raspy groan next to him.

He was kneeling next to the bed within two seconds. Grimmjow was frowning, grunting in pain through his dry, chapped lips. His eyes were closed, but it was obvious that he was waking up.

"Take it easy," Ichigo whispered and reached out to rest a palm on the man's forehead. It was still hot, but seemed a little cooler than before. His fever appeared to have broken some time during the night.

The stranger flinched from Ichigo's touch and let out another moan. Ichigo began to stand up to get Tessai, but at that very moment, Grimmjow's eyes flew open. Ichigo froze mid-stride.

Grimmjow stared at him with a dazed expression, clearly disoriented.

"Uhh, hi," Ichigo said. "How are you—hey! Wait!"

Taken by surprise, Ichigo lunged at Grimmjow as the man suddenly sat up and struggled to swing his legs over the side of the bed. His movements were stiff, and he was clearly in pain, but he managed to sit up, his body shaking and beginning to glisten with a layer of sweat.

"Wait! Don't move!" Ichigo caught the man to stop him from moving.

Grimmjow tried to push Ichigo away, but his arm fell limp half way and he sagged heavily against Ichigo's chest. Not knowing what else to do, Ichigo slipped an arm under the man's body and cradled the back of his head. Grimmjow thrashed weakly in Ichigo's arms, his eyes wide open but unfocused. A sense of panic began to set in over Ichigo's head as he realized that he really didn't know how to handle this. So he did the only thing he could think of.

"Tessai!"

* * *

Their unexpected visitor had calmed down significantly since he first woke up. Tessai was whispering to him, his deep voice soothing and reassuring, but from his position, Kisuke couldn't discern what was being said. Whatever it was, though, was enough to placate the man.

Kisuke stole a sideways glance at his nephew. Ichigo was next to him, sitting Indian-style on the floor with his back leaned against the wall. The boy's face was still a little pale, but his breathing was beginning to even out. Just minutes ago, Kisuke had been jolted awake by Ichigo's frantic calls. When he and Tessai burst into the room, Ichigo was clutching Grimmjow against his body, looking lost and panicky.

"It's fine, Ichigo, stop beating yourself up," Kisuke chided. "He's going to be fine."

Ichigo flashed him a scowl. "I'm not 'beating myself up'." After a pause, the boy added curtly, "And I wasn't 'freaking out' either."

Kisuke shook his head and smiled to himself. He should've known better than to tease his nephew, Ichigo was a stubborn and proud young man after all.

Ichigo turned away and continued to sulk in silence, but he eventually asked grudgingly, "So you think he's really going to be okay?"

Kisuke shrugged. "We won't know until we talk to him."

They fell silent after that and waited patiently for Tessai to finish assessing the man. Grimmjow appeared coherent enough to hold a conversation with Tessai. A few minutes later, Tessai gestured for Kisuke to go over. Ichigo hesitated for a moment and shot Kisuke a look. Knowing that the boy was itching for information, Kisuke nodded, and they hurried to Tessai's side.

"How are you?" Kisuke asked gently.

The stranger gave Kisuke a once-over, wariness and curiosity apparent in his glacial-blue eyes. "Feel like shit," he croaked wryly.

Kisuke chuckled. It appeared that their visitor had survived his ordeal—whatever it may be—with his sense of humor intact. "Very well, then," Kisuke said. "I have a few questions for you."

The man grunted his permission.

"Do you know what day it is today?" Kisuke began. "You can give me the date, or day in the week, whatever is fine."

Grimmjow frowned and closed his eyes. After a while, he shook his head.

"That's okay," Kisuke assured him. "It's normal not to know, you are badly injured after all. Now," he paused. "Can you tell us your name?"

The man rolled his eyes as if to say that Kisuke was an idiot for asking him such a stupid question. He opened his mouth to speak, then he stopped, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Alarm bells sounded in Kisuke's head. "It's alright, take your time," he said.

His attempt to reassure the stranger only served to provoke the man further. With a strangled yell, Grimmjow tried to push himself up from the bed, his arm trembling under his body weight. Tessai lurched forward to support the man, but Grimmjow shoved him aside. Or tried to, anyway. He was still too weak to actually make Tessai budge at all. He clutched his head with both hands and let out another cry of frustration.

Through it all, Kisuke eyed the man skeptically. Grimmjow appeared to be genuinely distraught, but Kisuke had seen a lot of people with very good acting skills in his lifetime. His nephew, however, being young and hot-blooded, became visibly disturbed. Kisuke was thankful that Ichigo at least had the tact to keep his mouth shut. They didn't need to agitate the man any more than he already was.

As Grimmjow continued to hold his head and mutter under his breath, Kisuke found himself becoming more and more convinced that the man's distress was real. After a few more minutes of quiet observation, he reached a decision: he would believe this man for now, but he would not trust him completely. Not yet.

Now that he had made up his mind, Kisuke sat down on the edge of the bed and rested one hand on the man's shoulder. Grimmjow went still, but his chest continued to heave, his breath coming out in loud, raspy gasps.

"Here," Kisuke rummaged in his pocket and fished out the man's wallet. He opened it and plucked the driver's license from one of the slots. "I found this on you."

Grimmjow snatched the card from Kisuke's grasp and stared at it greedily, his eyes wide and hopeful. As seconds ticked by, his hand began to shake lightly. His expression remained blank. His eyes didn't light up in recognition, the tension in his body did not go away, he did not sigh in relief. When he lifted his head, his face was deathly pale.

"G-grimm...jow," he read.

Kisuke listened to the man repeat the name under his breath, rolling the word around his mouth like he was trying to wring some sense of familiarity from it. The glimmer of hope in the man's eyes flickered and died. Despite his lingering doubts, Kisuke found himself feeling sorry for the poor fellow. Nobody deserved to wake up to a nightmare like this.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kisuke noticed Tessai looking at him. He caught his friend's gaze and held it. Tessai raised an eyebrow questioningly.

The gun. Kisuke tapped his foot on the floor as he contemplated his options. He was expecting a confrontation regarding the matter when their visitor regained consciousness. To have the man wake up with no recollection of his own identity—not even his name—was not something that had crossed his mind. He eyed Grimmjow, who was too busy staring at his driver's license to notice that he was being scrutinized.

No, he would not bring up the issue with the gun, Kisuke decided. He could see no benefit in it, at least not right now. The man was already upset. If he couldn't remember his own name, what were the chances that he would remember that he was carrying a gun? Kisuke knew there was a possibility that seeing the weapon may trigger Grimmjow's memory, but given his weakened condition and obviously turbulent emotions, Kisuke would rather wait. The right time would eventually arrive, he was sure of it.

Tessai seemed to understand the meaning behind Kisuke's silence. He stood up and patted the man gently on the back. "Get some rest, Grimmjow," he said.

Grimmjow shot Tessai a look. Kisuke could see anger and fear flashing in the man's eyes like tiny little flames. Kisuke sighed inwardly. He didn't blame Grimmjow for being hostile. He could not even begin to imagine what his own reaction would be if he were to wake up one day not knowing who he was.

"You're safe here," Kisuke added, getting to his feet as well. "My friend is right, you need to rest in order to recover. I won't say that I know what you're feeling, but I can assure you that we will take care of you."

Their blue-haired visitor lowered his head and clutched his ID tightly in his fist. He looked like he didn't hear Kisuke at all, but Kisuke knew better. Ichigo followed at his heels as he left the room, blinking furiously. Kisuke knew that his nephew was going to explode if he were to keep his questions bottled up any longer. Sure enough, as soon as the door clicked closed, Ichigo flung his arms in the air.

"How can he not remember who he is?" the young man whispered fiercely. "What are we gonna do? We have no idea where he came from—"

"Ichigo, give the man a break," Kisuke interrupted, gesturing for Ichigo to lower his voice. "He was knocked in the head and it's normal to be a little confused at first. You never know, by this time tomorrow, perhaps he would remember everything. And if he doesn't...well, we can decide what to do next when the time comes, yes?"

Ichigo didn't look convinced, but after a while he let out an irritated huff and nodded grudgingly. Kisuke ruffled his nephew's hair fondly and chuckled when the kid gave him a swift kick in the shin in return.

"Come, since we're already up, we might as well start making breakfast..."

* * *

Ichigo bit off another mouthful of apple and stole a quick glance at the stranger. The man was sitting up on the bed, staring thoughtfully at the bowl of oatmeal in his hand. He hadn't eaten much of it even though he had been prodding at the thick concoction for the past thirty minutes. Ichigo was surprised that the oatmeal hadn't congealed into an inedible blob by now.

"Go on, spit it out," the man said suddenly.

Ichigo nearly choked on the piece of apple in his mouth. Grimmjow hadn't spoken a word since his earlier outburst. Ichigo was only here to serve him some food and to keep him company while he ate.

"W-what?" Ichigo sputtered.

The older man scoffed. "You're dying to say something, so spit it the fuck out."

Ichigo resisted the urge to sock the man in the jaw, and at the same time couldn't help wondering if this was the man's real personality. If he couldn't remember who he was, did that mean he was no longer the same person? Did he, in a sense...lose himself in the process?

"Well?" Grimmjow raised his eyebrows. His face was still a mess, but the discomfort didn't seem to faze him.

Ichigo scratched the back of his neck, feeling self conscious all of a sudden. The stranger was peering intently at him, the bottomless, sapphire-like eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. Ichigo's skin prickled under that gaze. The man was practically oozing sex appeal through those gorgeous eyes of his. At least he was wearing a top now; one of Tessai's old button-down shirts that had gotten so soft from wear that it molded easily to Grimmjow's body, doing absolutely nothing to conceal the shape of man's perfectly cut pectorals.

Becoming increasingly flustered, Ichigo blurted out the first thing on his mind. "How do you pronounce your name?"

He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth, but it was too late.  _Real smooth, Kurosaki_ , Ichigo mentally kicked himself and braced for the worst.

To his surprise, the only response he received from Grimmjow was a loud snort. "That's all?" the man asked, his tone sarcastic but in a playful way.

Ichigo found himself blushing for no good reason.

"Wish I can tell you, kid," Grimmjow answered after a pause. "I wouldn't know."

Ichigo kicked himself again for being so tactless, feeling so upset that he ignored the fact that Grimmjow had just called him a kid. Of all things, he just  _had_  to bring up the most sensitive topic of the hour. He felt a pang of guilt when he saw Grimmjow's lips became downturned.

"Sorry," Ichigo said quietly, wishing that he could take his question back.

Grimmjow looked surprised. "Nah, don't worry about it," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "It's a damn stupid name if you ask me." He chuckled and shook his head, then he cocked his head to the side. "Now, how about you tell me  _your_  name?"

Only then did Ichigo realize that, in the excitement and confusion that happened since this morning, none of them had thought of introducing themselves to their visitor. He offered his hand.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he said.

Ichigo felt his heart skip a beat as his hand was engulfed in Grimmjow's larger, calloused one. Biting back a gasp, he snatched his arm back quickly, hoping that the man would not find his behavior odd.  _Something_  about this man...Ichigo didn't know what...unnerved him. Whether it was simply because he was the most attractive man Ichigo had ever seen, or whether it was because of the air of mystery around him, Ichigo wasn't sure.

"The big guy who treated you...the doctor, he's Tsukabishi Tessai," Ichigo continued, shoving his tingling hand deep into the pocket of his cargo shorts. "The blonde dude with the messy hair is my uncle, Urahara Kisuke. There's another one you haven't seen...that would be Ukitake Juushirou, my uncle's partner."

Grimmjow wrinkled his nose. "And you have the nerve to complain about  _my_  name," he grunted.

Ichigo's widened. "I wasn't really complaining..." he began, but then he saw that there was a hint of a smile on Grimmjow's battered face. He let his sentence trail off and grinned back, feeling strangely happy that the man was feeling well enough to joke around.

As Grimmjow brought the bowl up to his nose and sniffed it apprehensively, Ichigo shook his head and tried to imagine what on earth happened to this man. But, given Grimmjow's current condition, would they ever find out?

* * *

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3

G-R-I-M-M-J-O-W J-A-E-G-E-R-J-A-Q-U-E-S..

The man stared intently at the identification card grasped in his hand, his glacial blue eyes filled with frustration and the slightest glint of hope. The text was just barely discernible in the darkness; the only light source being the weak moonlight that filtered in through the blinds on the window.

GRIMMJOW.

He repeated the word, his lips moving soundlessly, mouthing the name—his own name—over and over again. His hope of wringing some sort of familiarity from it was diminishing by the minute, but he refused to give up. He stared, unblinkingly, at the photo on the card. It was him, yet it was not. He recognized himself, but what was the use of that if that was all he knew?

For the umpteenth time that night, he slid the card back under the pillow and covered his eyes with the back of his hand. A raspy sigh escaped his lips despite his effort to be silent. He froze immediately and listened to the only sound in the room—the soft, even breathing of the slumbering teenager on the floor. It remained steady, and after a while the man relaxed. He didn't want to wake the poor kid.

The boy, Ichigo, had insisted that he should take the bed because of his condition, and he had been too tired and sore to argue. In fact, he was secretly relieved; though he would never show it.

The pain that radiated from the countless injuries on his body was staggering. Every time he moved, he had to grit his teeth just so he wouldn't make any noise. The gash across his torso, especially, throbbed with every breath he took. Common sense told him that he should be in a hospital instead of a strange residence in a place he didn't recognize, but something—an instinct, perhaps—told him that it was best for him to remain low, at least until he figured out who the hell he was and how he ended up here.

This was the third night since his arrival. Daytime was spent resting in bed and having his bandages changed and his wounds cleaned and inspected for infection. This morning, he had felt feverish, and the doctor had given him something to help with that. He hated it—the feeling of helplessness and the fact that he had to rely completely on others—even though his hosts were gracious and friendly. The teenager, especially, seemed to have taken it upon himself to be his caretaker of sorts. Much to Grimmjow's chagrin, he needed Ichigo's help even for as simple a task as taking care of his bladder. Ichigo would support his weight and help him limp over to the small adjoining bathroom, and then the boy would close the door and give him his privacy until it was time to help him back to the bed.

In the short time that he was here, he had met everyone under this roof. The one that intrigued him the most was Ichigo's uncle, who was introduced as the head of the household. The blonde was cordial enough, yet there was a gleam in the grey-green eyes that stirred a sense of wariness in him. Oh, the man wasn't hostile, not in the least, but something in him just made Grimmjow feel like he was being  _studied_. He felt uncomfortable, but he supposed he couldn't blame anyone for feeling curious about him. That must be it—curiosity. He had no reason to think that the blonde had ulterior motives.

It was with these thoughts that he eventually fell into slumber from sheer exhaustion.

* * *

The dreams—seemingly random snippets of images, colors, conversations that gave him no context, no meaning—were what woke Grimmjow up in the mornings.

It was now one week since he arrived. His wounds still stung and ached when he moved, but the minor ones and the bruises had started healing. The swelling around his eye had gone down, and his cheek finally felt semi-normal again. He still looked like shit in the mirror every morning, but he no longer needed help to get to and from the bathroom, which was a big relief to him.

His head, though, continued to bother him off and on; throbbing headaches, dull, pulsating pain that made him nauseous but not quite enough to know him out. He kept them to himself, though. It was probably stupid of him to do such a thing, but he didn't want his senses to be further dulled by drugs, or even worse, be sent to a hospital. He still didn't understand why he felt a need to stay away from the city, but he trusted his guts. He was all alone in this—no matter how nice his hosts were, they were still strangers—so he would do whatever his instincts told him to keep himself safe.

The hope that he had held out—that his memories would return after a few days' rest—had reduced into nothing but a tiny, flickering flame. Still, he did not give up. Every waking moment he had, he spent on wracking his brain, closing his eyes and almost meditating, trying to read his own head like a book, but it always came up empty. The pages were blank. Sometimes it felt as though the answers were just inches away from his fingertips, yet he just couldn't quite grasp it. It infuriated him, and he had ended up throwing pillows across the room, only to have to hurry over to retrieve it before Ichigo saw them.

Speak of the devil…

Someone knocked on the door just then—three quick raps—and then a few seconds later, a vibrantly-colored head of orange entered Grimmjow's view.

"Lunch," the kid announced.

Grimmjow wasn't hungry, but he invited the boy in anyway. He supposed he should eat something, if only to keep up his strength so that he could recover faster.

Recover faster. Get his memories back. Those were the only objectives in his life now; the only things he knew.

He held out his hand for the bowl and immediately made a face when he saw what was in it. "Healthy food" again: plain white congee with sweet potatoes, green onions, and carrots.

"Don't be picky," Ichigo said at once.

Grimmjow felt his eyebrows twitch. This little kid, lecturing him?

"Tch," he grumbled under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the teenager sit down on his sleeping bag, which was still laid out on the floor.

"You gonna sit here and watch me eat?" Grimmjow asked sullenly.

The boy only grinned, as if he found this whole thing amusing.

"Tch," Grimmjow grunted again. "It's not like there's anywhere for me to throw this out." He felt kind of stupid having this conversation with Ichigo, but he couldn't help but feel irritated. He knew the doctor meant well, but one could only eat oatmeal and congee for so long.

With a sideways glance, Grimmjow saw the orange-haired kid look pointedly at the adjoining bathroom. When Grimmjow rolled his eyes and let out another disgruntled huff, Ichigo's grin widened.

"Don't worry," the boy piped up. "Tomorrow you'll get to eat proper food. Just a word of warning, though. You'll miss this once you've tasted my uncle's cooking."

Grimmjow arched an eyebrow skeptically. How bad could the blonde's cooking be?

* * *

" _What_  did you say is in this dish again?"

Ichigo bit his lip to stifle his laughter as he watched Grimmjow wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. A piece of half-chewed chicken sat unceremoniously on the edge of his plate.

"Oh dear, I didn't expect it to be quite that bad," Uncle Kisuke muttered, his face falling in disappointment.

Juushirou patted his partner's back gently, but his face was flushed from his valiant effort to contain his mirth. As for Tessai, Ichigo was certain that the man was smiling behind his thick mustache while he calmly explained that the chicken had been simmered in a sauce made of celery, cheese, and wasabi.

It was quite hilarious, really, seeing Grimmjow's features contort into a look of utter disgust right before he spat the food out. Ichigo was surprised at how candid the man was, given that he hardly knew Uncle Kisuke. In fact, the man was still not done; he was now chugging down an entire glass of water, presumably to wash the taste out of his mouth.

"This is relatively edible, actually," Tessai said, looking completely serious as he chewed.

Grimmjow's eyes widened, and Ichigo swore the man shuddered in his seat. After that, Grimmjow refused to touch any of the entrees and stuck only to his bowl of white rice. The baleful look on the man's face was enough to send another bout of laughter crawling up Ichigo's throat, but he resisted, for once taking pity on his uncle as the blonde stared sadly at his failed masterpiece.

After dinner, Ichigo was washing the dishes when Grimmjow sauntered up to him and offered to help put them away. They worked in comfortable silence, during which Ichigo eyed the older man discretely. There was just  _something_  about this man that drew him in. The mystery around his identity, the unusual color of his hair, the exotic name—his entire being seemed to scream excitement. Ichigo couldn't help but feel an undercurrent of thrill just by standing next to him doing something as mundane as doing the dishes.

"Do I have something on my face?" Grimmjow's deep voice suddenly cut through Ichigo's wandering mind, and in his surprise, Ichigo let go of the cup that he was washing.

A corded hand shot out and caught it with ease, and Ichigo looked up to see Grimmjow looking at him with a look of puzzlement on his face.

"Wow, n-nice reflexes," Ichigo sputtered, hoping to distract the taller man's attention.

* * *

Grimmjow stared at his own hand, surprised by himself. "Impressive," he agreed with a grin.

The kid rolled his eyes, and for the first time since his arrival, Grimmjow felt light-hearted. He flexed his fist and pondered the boy's strange behavior. The boy had been staring at him, and he  _swore_  Ichigo blushed when he interrupted his daydream.

 _Children_ , Grimmjow shook his head, the movement imperceptible. Easily excitable, curious with over-active imaginations. Ichigo looked like he was in his late teens; definitely no child, but still fresh enough to retain his youthful innocence. That was probably why Ichigo was looking at him that way. The boy must be itching to ask him questions, most likely wondering if he had made any progress, if he had remembered anything. At the thought, his lips quirked into a mischievous grin.

"No," he said, knowing that he would startle Ichigo, perhaps even embarrass him.

Ichigo looked up with confusion written all over his face. "Huh?"

Grimmjow put away a clean plate and replied, "No, I haven't remembered anything."

As he had expected, the boy's face turned scarlet at once. "No! I wasn't…" he sputtered, eyes wide and almost frantic. "I wasn't prying…didn't mean to—"

Grimmjow chuckled. "It's okay," he said. Then, on an impulse, he reached out and ruffled the kid's hair. "I don't mind talking about it. Who knows, maybe it'll help, hmm?"

Ichigo's mouth opened into a comical "O". "Would it?" he asked.

Grimmjow glanced at the boy and saw nothing but genuine curiosity and warmth in those warm brown eyes. It was an endearing sight to behold in his current situation, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Fuck, I dunno." He shrugged as he dried his hands on a paper napkin. "Maybe. I'm sick of not knowing who I am. I'll do anything to get 'em back, ya know? My memories, I mean. Who I am,  _what_  I am, where I'm from…" He suddenly trailed off, realizing that he had said much more than he'd intended to. He eyed Ichigo, wondering how the kid would react.

Ichigo didn't respond immediately, but when he did, Grimmjow was taken aback by the sincerity of the boy's tone.

"You know…I just thought of something," Ichigo said thoughtfully. "We can look you up on the internet, see if we can find any information. Maybe you have a profile somewhere, a blog, a forum, social network…anything."

For a few seconds, Grimmjow didn't know how to reply, then the ingenuity of the idea dawned on him. "That is a  _great_  idea, thank you!" he said excitedly, ruffling the kid's hair some more, ignoring the scowl he received in return. The tiny flame of hope flared in his chest just a fraction before he forced himself to calm down. No point getting all worked up; it would only make disappointment all the more unbearable.

Next to him, Ichigo nodded with a wide smile. "C'mon! The computer's upstairs!"

* * *

**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

A blond eyebrow quirked as the owner's ears picked up voices that belonged to his nephew and their mysterious guest coming from the loft next to his bedroom. A few seconds later, a beep sounded, indicating that their shared computer was being booted up.

"You'd think that a young man of Ichigo's caliber would've thought of turning to the internet a lot sooner," Kisuke mused, his brows wrinkled unhappily.

Juushirou laughed, his voice gentle and melodious. "Don't give him a hard time, Kisuke. The child has been distracted ever since Mr. Jaegerjaques arrived."

"Hmm," Kisuke muttered. "Well, he will only be disappointed."

A moment of silence filled the room with nothing but Juushirou's soft sighs as Kisuke's fingers dug into his shoulders to loosen out the knots. Then, Juushirou asked carefully, "May I assume, then, that you haven't heard anything from your contact?"

Kisuke pursed his lips. "Your assumption is correct, I'm afraid," he said, sounding both defeated and frustrated. "One can't simply materialize out of thin air and leave no traces behind, but it seems that our guest here did exactly that."

"And you're worried..." Juushirou observed out loud as he caught his partner's gaze.

Kisuke sighed and nodded.

"There are four of us watching over one of him, I think we will be quite alright," Juushirou touched the blonde's hand.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Kisuke replied, his eyes darting to the closed door. "I'm afraid that Ichigo would..."

Juushirou chuckled. "Nonsense," he said. "Ichigo is a smart boy, as you had just pointed out. I'm sure he is simply intrigued. After all, he has had no one but three boring old men as company for a long while."

Kisuke feigned a wounded look at the comment regarding his age, but had no choice but to agree and hope that Juushirou was right.

* * *

Ichigo was disappointed, but if he was honest with himself, he wasn't all that surprised. He shot a sideways glance at the older man sitting next to him and felt a sharp pang of guilt. It was all his fault—he had gotten Grimmjow's hopes up, only to end up with absolutely nothing.

"Don't sweat it, kid," Grimmjow flashed a grin that showed off a set of brilliant white teeth. "No offense, but I wasn't really expecting such as easy break anyway."

"Oh." Ichigo felt foolish at once. The sudden surge of heat on his cheeks indicated that his embarrassment was reflected on his face.

To his chagrin, Grimmjow reached out and ruffled his hair. "By the way, is there anything I can help with around here?" the man asked. "I'm getting quite restless here, doing nothing but lying around all day mooching off of you guys."

"But you're still recovering..." Ichigo began with a frown, only to be interrupted by his uncle's singsong voice.

"Thanks for the offer," Uncle Kisuke said, stepping out of his bedroom with Juushirou right behind him. "I would't dream of asking you to do any manual labor for the next couple of weeks, but when you feel up to it, you may help us around the shop. Tessai could use the help, and a little physical exertion might strengthen your limbs. From your physique, I daresay you are a very active man before this happened."

Ichigo pursed his lips but refrained from protesting when Grimmjow straightened up in his seat with a wider grin. Perhaps his uncle was right. The worst of Grimmjow's injuries seemed to be showing signs of improvement, and the man certainly didn't look like the type to sit still for long once his energy returned. It could be fun, even, having someone besides Tessai to talk to while he carried out mundane everyday tasks.

"Then it's settled," Uncle Kisuke said, patting their guest's shoulder in a friendly manner.

Ichigo bit his lower lip when Grimmjow tensed up the moment Uncle Kisuke's hand touched him. The man hid it well, though; the wariness in his eyes dissolved in blink of an eye, and from the way Uncle Kisuke continued chatting idly with his partner, it didn't seem like the older man had noticed it. Ichigo couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement as something clicked in his head.

Grimmjow may have lost his memories, but his  _body_  would've no doubt retained some that were simply too deeply ingrained within it.

Like his cat-like reflexes.

Like his reaction to Uncle Kisuke's touch.

Perhaps observation would be Ichigo's most powerful tool after all.

* * *

By the time Tessai finally gave in to Grimmjow's incessant pestering, it was already two weeks since they tried to find him on the internet. While Grimmjow told Ichigo that he'd never had high hopes in the first place, he did try to do a little research of his own—usually at night, sneaking upstairs to use the shared computer on tiptoes like a burglar—but so far all he'd gotten was disappointment after disappointment. He had looked up car accidents, missing persons reports—anything he could think of that might be even remotely possible, and then some.

During the day, he started helping Tessai with housework. As he expected, there wasn't much to do, especially with Tessai and Ichigo already there. Still, he enjoyed being outdoors, even if all he did was tidy the lawn. The sun was unforgiving today, and he soon found himself drenched in sweat. His white shirt—one that he borrowed from Tessai—stuck to his skin like the piece of damp cloth that it was, and he couldn't help but wish that he could strip out of it.

"It's crazy hot here," he grumbled to Tessai, who was dusting himself off.

"Mmm," the older man agreed with a nod.

Over the past few weeks, Grimmjow had learned not to take offense at Tessai's lack of words. He was a quiet, serious man who didn't speak much—a complete opposite of his light-hearted blonde friend—who was caring and warm in his own way. Grimmjow found his silent presence comforting enough.

At the moment, though, the indoors was becoming more and more tempting by the minute. Grimmjow panted lightly as he leaned against the hood of the battered up truck that belonged to his host. The still-healing cut across his torso itched, and sweat was dripping into his eye, his hair matted to his scalp, all tangled and damp. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. With a grunt, he peeled the t-shirt off his frame carefully, mindful not to strain the tender skin and muscles on his front.

"Looking good," Tessai commented as he shifted his thick glasses up his nosebridge.

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow.

"Your injury, I mean," the black-haired man added hastily, looking a little embarrassed.

Grimmjow guffawed at his host's discomfort. "It's all thanks to you," he said, tracing the new scar with his fingers. Still grinning, he wrung the sweat out of his t-shirt and dabbed his face and neck with it before draping it carelessly over his shoulders. "All thanks to you."

* * *

Ichigo thought he was going to die.

_All that skin._

Ichigo stopped cold in his tracks, the two bottles of cold water in his hands forgotten. He gaped at Grimmjow's back, eyes glued to the muscles rippling under that taut, tanned skin as the man pulled his t-shirt over his head. Grimmjow was practically glowing, his skin glistening under a sheen of sweat. Light bruises could still be seen here and there—yellowish, barely visible—yet they didn't diminish the man's appearance in any way; if anything, the plethora of scars added to Grimmjow's appeal, giving him a tough, rugged look that reminded Ichigo of a warrior.

It took Ichigo a handful of seconds to realize that his mouth was hanging open, and when he did, heat bloomed on his cheeks immediately, and he snapped it shut in a hurry. He seriously needed to get a grip—this was not the first time he'd caught himself ogling at their guest. But could you blame him, though? Ichigo had never seen anyone so... _exotic_ before. Grimmjow's hair was such a rare shade of azure, his eyes crystal clear and so impossibly blue. Not to mention the constant air of danger and mystery that shrouded him...Ichigo was absolutely fascinated. Compared to his normal, boring life as a recent high-school graduate, Grimmjow was a pop of color, and Ichigo couldn't help but feel drawn to the man.

Shaking himself once more, Ichigo forced his body to move. Heart pumping madly in his chest, he approached Tessai and Grimmjow.

"Aww thanks, kid!" Grimmjow grinned as he snatched one of the bottles from Ichigo's grasp before Ichigo even had the chance to greet them.

 _Kid_.

Ichigo scowled, but the heat in his eyes met an instant death as soon as Grimmjow flashed him another one of his winning smiles. Still, his pride as a young man almost well into his second decade in life prompted him to retort.

"I'm not a kid, stop calling me that," he demanded with as much indignation as he could muster.

"Sure," Grimmjow smirked, his voice betraying more than a hint of amusement.

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Ichigo, but his snappy comeback hitched in his throat when he felt the weight of those crystalline eyes on his face. It was all he could do to swallow the gurgle that nearly slipped from his throat. For a long moment, he stared blankly at Grimmjow, too stunned to defend himself. Fleetingly, Ichigo wondered if Grimmjow was a hypnotist before he lost his memory. He knew he was being rude and he was staring at the older man like an idiot, yet it just wasn't possible for him to look away; and when he did, it was only because of Tessai's not-so-subtle fake cough.

And then it got worse.

* * *

The kid was just too cute. Grimmjow knew that he had a good body, but he didn't expect Ichigo to stare at him so openly. On an impulse, just to tease the boy, he draped an arm casually over Ichigo's shoulders and pulled him closer.

The effect was immediate—Ichigo promptly froze and flushed a deeper shade of scarlet. Grimmjow snickered inwardly. The way the kid got embarrassed so easily only made it all the more amusing. It was hilarious to see Ichigo scowling fiercely like he wanted to start a fight even as it looked like his cheeks were about to be completely consumed by flames.

"Okay, fine,  _Ichigo_ ," he said with a grin, giving the boy's shoulder a playful squeeze. "Happy?"

If only Ichigo was a little older, Grimmjow mused as the kid shot him a murderous glare. Now that he thought about it, Ichigo was actually kind of cute, especially those warm brown eyes of his that reminded Grimmjow of amber, with flecks of gold that seemed to burn brighter in anger. The boy had the physique of a swimmer, his body lithe and lean without being gangly.

Too bad he was half of Grimmjow's age.

At the thought, Grimmjow couldn't help but wonder if there was someone out there—someone who was searching for him frantically, waiting for him to return.

Well, if there was, they're going to need to search a little harder.

* * *

After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, Ichigo finally accepted the fact that it was going to be a long night. He was lying on his side, tucked under his blanket with his back towards Grimmjow. Sleep continued to elude him even though he had been trying hard to clear his mind.

 _Kid_.

That bastard. He was still pissed at the man for calling him that. It wasn't the first time, and if Grimmjow's lack of remorse was any indication, it wasn't going to be the last either.

But  _damn,_  was Grimmjow especially hot today. Ichigo had never thought of himself as a pervert, but it seemed like lately, Uncle Kisuke's bad habits had rubbed off on him. Ever since he first realized that how attractive Grimmjow was, it wouldn't stop bugging him.

The problem was getting worse, in fact. Like this afternoon, when Grimmjow took his t-shirt off...the image was now forever seared into his memory. He'd close his eyes and see the man stripping out of that thin, almost-see-through garment, and his mouth would go dry. He remembered the toned ridges of Grimmjow's abdominal muscles and the torso that tapered into an alluring V-shape that was partially covered by the borrowed pair of jeans. Since Tessai was a little thicker around the waist, it sat low on Grimmjow's hips, giving the world a glimpse of his well-defined obliques.

Before Ichigo knew it, his body temperature had spiked. It was suddenly stiflingly warm under the covers; so he shifted, crossing and uncrossing his legs as he tried to ignore the growing discomfort down south. The tip of his ears began to burn as he realized what this meant.

Feeling alarmed, he swore silently and tried to distract himself by thinking about the  _least_  sexual thing he could think of—an image of his dad popped into his mind, but it dissipated almost instantly when a soft rustling of bedsheets reminded him of Grimmjow's presence not five feet away from him.

This was it. He couldn't deny it anymore. He was hopelessly infatuated with their mysterious guest.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

Not for the first time, Kisuke watched his nephew with a slight frown as the teenager chatted with their blue-haired visitor. The man was laughing at something Ichigo had just said, and Ichigo was grinning back, his trademark scowl absent from his boyish features.

It was getting worrisome, even though Kisuke knew he was probably being overprotective and paranoid. Ichigo was smart, but he was also young and overly-trusting. It was easy to see that the boy no longer saw Grimmjow as a suspicious character, and that made Kisuke feel uncomfortable in a way he couldn't even begin to describe.

"You think too much," Juushirou admonished with a shake of his head as he followed his lover's gaze. "Ichigo is just being friendly..."

Kisuke snorted. "I was just being friendly when I met you too," he muttered. "Look how  _that_  turned out."

There was a soft chortle before Juushirou replied, "Are you implying that I seduced your young, innocent self, my dear Kisuke?"

 

Kisuke's eyes lit up as he chuckled, then, eyeing his nephew again, he sighed. "I'm thinking of asking Jaegerjaques to room with Tessai. What do you think?"

But he knew already, of course, that his partner of eleven years would try to talk him out of it. Juushirou had always been more tactful, more mellow, compared to Kisuke.

Sure enough, Juushirou arched his brows. "Is that really necessary?" he asked. "You know Ichigo won't have it...and look at Mr. Jaegerjaques, that man treats Ichigo like a child."

Kisuke shot another glance at Ichigo and was just in time to see their guest ruffle the boy's hair. Juushirou's right; but then again, Kisuke was never one to ignore his gut feelings, and his internal alarm bells somehow just wouldn't stop bugging him ever since Jaegerjaques arrived on his doorsteps. It was the gun, of course, and then there was the fact that he hadn't been able to find any information about the man.

A gentle swipe from Juushirou's fingers smoothed out some of the creases on his forehead before their eyes met in silent understanding. Kisuke's lips quirked into a slight smile. He knew Juushirou knew that he wouldn't just let it be.

* * *

Ichigo wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or disappointed when Grimmjow was suddenly tasked with manning the gas station slash convenience store register along with Juushirou. This meant less time to study the mysterious man, but it also prevented him from making a total fool of himself.

Ichigo's stress level had been so high in the past few weeks that he was certain he would be diagnosed with high blood pressure if he were to take a blood pressure test. Grimmjow was good company, and they had grown more comfortable with each other as they worked side by side with Tessai, but Ichigo still felt extremely self conscious next to the older man. He felt so... _young_ , and that bugged him more than anything, even though he didn't understand why. His age had never bothered him, but now, he couldn't help but wish that he was just a little older. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so silly having a crush on Grimmjow.

Then again, it was probably silly—not to mention completely  _irrational_ —to have a crush on  _any_  stranger in the first place. Grimmjow had been staying with them for a little more than a month now, and still they knew nothing more about him than what they'd learned on the first day. His memory had not returned.

Ichigo could tell that the man was frustrated. Grimmjow didn't sleep well at night; the man constantly tossed and turned like he was waging a war with his blanket. Ichigo had never felt so useless in his life.

But being indoors must've bored Grimmjow to death, because Ichigo found him standing outside the shop when he came back from an errand trip with Tessai.

The first thing that caught Ichigo's eyes as soon as Tessai's truck rolled into their compound was a tuff of cerulean hair behind their lone gas pump. Grimmjow was leaning against the pillar, arms folded over his chest with his lips pursed into a scowl. His hair was the best-looking unruly mess Ichigo had ever seen.

"Something wrong?" Ichigo asked as he strolled up to the older man, leaving Tessai to park their battered-up truck in the garage by himself.

Grimmjow's scowl deepened, but he shook his head. "I swear, if I hear another one of your uncle's lame jokes, I'm gonna kill myself," he grumbled.

Ichigo snickered. "Yeah, they're pretty terrible, aren't they?"

Grimmjow huffed, and Ichigo watched, eyes wide and greedy, as the older man's breath lifted the few stray strands of hair that had been hanging over his forehead. For a split second, Ichigo felt a sudden urge to run his fingers through those sky blue locks just to see how soft they were. As soon as he realized his own thoughts, his cheeks burned like someone had slapped him. He quickly turned away from Grimmjow and hoped fervently that his hair was long enough to hide his face.

"Say, I've been meaning to ask," Grimmjow's deep, slightly nasal voice caused Ichigo to turn back to him. "What's a kid like you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Ichigo bristled immediately.  _What's with this_ kid _business?_  He opened his mouth to snap at his crush, but his harsh words died in his throat under the assault of the man's piercing gaze. Grimmjow was looking at him intently, his eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"I'm escaping from home, I guess," Ichigo ended up mumbling petulantly instead.  _Damn_. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed. He actually hadn't given much thought about the situation with his dad lately, and now he suddenly felt a pang of guilt.

Grimmjow quirked his eyebrows. "Escape from home?"

Ichigo sighed and pondered if he should talk about his problem. He wasn't the type to go around spilling his gut to people, but then again, this was  _Grimmjow_. So he did, haltingly at first, and then everything just tumbled from his lips as Grimmjow listened quietly. By the time Ichigo was done with his story, the man's brows had just about disappeared into his hairline.

"You probably think I'm lame, huh?" Ichigo muttered.

"Nah." A lopsided smirk crept onto Grimmjow's face. There was a pregnant pause before the man added, "Not lame...just kinda dumb."

Ichigo's jaw fell slack.

Grimmjow unfolded his arms and pushed himself off of the pillar. "You gonna live his life or yours?" he asked in a challenging tone, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're a smart kid, you just have to stop trying to please everyone."

Ichigo was floored completely by the man's bluntness. If this had come from anyone else, he would've socked them in the jaw, but hearing it from Grimmjow...it gave him a surge of strength instead. He almost frowned at how biased he was getting.

"Easy for you to say..." he mumbled. The image of his twin baby sisters popped into his head—their wide and frightened eyes darting between him and their father every time Ichigo had an argument with him about this issue.

"Seriously," Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "You gotta take a stand and stick to it. You're practically a grown-up now."

Ichigo let that jab go for now. Grimmjow's right, he should stop stalling. He needed to show his dad that he wasn't just acting on a whim. It was a serious life decision, he wasn't "going through a phase" like his dad thought he was. Suddenly feeling stressed, he let out a dejected sigh.

Grimmjow must've sensed the shift in his mood, because the man cleared his throat and tried to change the subject.

"So, what do you do when you're not fighting with your dad?"

"Uhh," Ichigo scratched the back of his head as he suppressed the urge to fidget under Grimmjow's expectant look. "Study, I guess."

The older man rolled his eyes so dramatically that Ichigo was surprised that his eyeballs didn't get stuck inside their sockets. Feeling irked, he added defensively, "And karate, okay? I'm not a nerd or anything."

"Never said you were," Grimmjow said, his face suddenly brightening. "Karate, you say? How about we spar a little? I can use the exercise."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. Remembering the relentless teasing from Grimmjow, he asked smugly, "You sure you're up to it, old man?"

* * *

Grimmjow fucking  _lied_.

The hair on Ichigo's face tingled as Grimmjow's fist narrowly missed its target. The man had said that he just wanted to stretch his limbs and work off his boredom, but once he got started, it was obvious that Grimmjow knew a trick or two about fighting.

It wasn't karate, Ichigo noted. If he had to guess, he'd say it was more like mixed martial arts, an interesting blend of Asian styles and Western boxing. After a clumsy, tentative start, Grimmjow began to wield his arms and legs with almost expert ease. The triumphant grin on his face was practically splitting his face in half, yet it didn't look like the man even realized what he was doing.

"Come on! You're not even trying!" Grimmjow taunted gleefully as Ichigo backpedalled again to dodge another one of his powerful punches.

Too winded to retort, Ichigo scowled darkly. It wasn't fair, although he would die before admitting it. Grimmjow had at least thirty pounds of pure muscle on him, and the man seemed almost half-crazed as he cackled madly, eyes sparkling with a gleam of excitement.

"Stop being a pussy and hit me already!"

Ichigo growled in annoyance and gave it a shot. He abandoned his karate stance and dropped to the ground into a crouch and lashed out in an attempt to swipe Grimmjow's feet from under him. Taken by surprise, the older man nearly tripped over, his fists connecting with nothing but air.

Letting out a whoop of victory, Ichigo followed up with an upward elbow strike, aiming for Grimmjow's solar plexus. For a moment, he thought he had it in the bag, but then there was a bark of laughter and a pair of hands caught his elbow in an iron grip. The next thing he knew, he was on his back under a crushing weight like someone had thrown a bag of bricks over him.

"Gah!" he cried out as he grappled with Grimmjow. The man had him pinned tightly on the dusty concrete surface, the weight and height difference between them becoming painfully clear.

Grimmjow only laughed maniacally as Ichigo squirmed beneath him, trying hard to shake him off. Grunting, Ichigo lifted his head in an attempt to head-butt the older man.

_Bad move._

In a flash, a corded arm pressed against his throat, cutting off his air supply. Ichigo gasped, trying to breathe, but all he managed was a few choking wheezes before the pressure on his throat increased. His eyes widened in alarm, panic beginning to seize him as he stared up into Grimmjow's fiery blue eyes.

And then he drove his knee,  _hard_ , into Grimmjow's crotch.

The older man rolled off of him with a howl, hands flying to cup his precious jewels as Ichigo sat up shakily. His throat ached something awful; he probably wouldn't be singing for a while.

* * *

 _Sheer. Agonizing. Pain_.

Grimmjow laid on his side with his knees drawn up towards his stomach as he tried to breathe through clenched teeth.  _Damn_ , that kid's knee was made of fucking steel!

"Dude, you okay?" Ichigo's voice floated down from above.

"Unggh," Grimmjow groaned in response. His crotch throbbed beneath his palms, the pain still intense enough to cut off the functionality of his brain cells.

There was a shuffling of feet, then Ichigo plopped down next to him. "Sorry," the boy said sheepishly.

Grimmjow grunted and shot a murderous glare at the kid.

"You were strangling me," Ichigo pointed to his neck, his voice sounding oddly hoarse.

Sure enough, there was an angry-looking red mark across that slender neck. Grimmjow frowned, suddenly worried. Did he really do that?

"Did I bust 'em?" Ichigo croaked with a grin.

"Ha, ha."

Grimmjow prodded his equipment gingerly and winced when they protested his touch. It hurt like hell but it looked like they're still intact, thank god. He remained on the ground and waited for the pain to subside, oblivious to the dirt that was sticking to his sweaty skin and clothes.

"So..." Ichigo's scratchy voice came hesitantly. "You can fight."

Grimmjow stilled as the comment registered in his head. He blinked at the boy, his chest suddenly filled with a mixture of excitement and confusion. Ichigo stared back him with a conflicted look, like he had something to say but daren't.

A heavy sense of depression settled over Grimmjow. "No, haven't remembered a fucking thing," he muttered.

He was met with silence and kept his gaze averted. He didn't want to see the look of pity that Ichigo would surely give him. Hell, he'd better not say something stupid like "I'm sure it'll be okay" or "you'll be fine"—empty words that were uttered solely to fill awkward moments like this.

Except, Ichigo didn't. And then to Grimmjow's astonishment, he felt long, thin fingers thread through his hair—his damp, messy hair that was no doubt reeking of sweat.

The kid was  _ruffling his hair._ Grimmjow couldn't help but chuckle.

"Let's go in," he heard Ichigo say.

Nodding, he was about to struggle to his feet, mindful of the still-tender goods between his legs, when the kid's fingers slipped from his hair. They ghosted over his cheeks, lingering just a heartbeat too long for it to be accidental. His head snapped up to look at Ichigo and only managed to catch a glimpse of rosy cheeks before the boy jerked his arm away and turned around in a hurry.

Perplexed, Grimmjow brought a hand up to touch his cheek absently, right where Ichigo's fingers had been.

 _So soft_.

Then he shook his head and laughed inwardly at himself. He must be overdue for some self-love, because for a split second, he had actually wished that Ichigo hadn't pulled away so quickly. With another shake of his head, Grimmjow brushed his bangs away from his forehead and half-limped, half-jogged after the kid.

* * *

"I'll have to call in a favor from an old friend," the haughty voice sounded peeved on the other end of the phone. "You owe me big for this, Urahara."

Kisuke smiled wryly. "Of course, Ishida," he replied.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

"What do you mean,  _I need to be careful_?" Ichigo stared at his uncle, his orange brows furrowed in puzzlement.

The older man sighed, as though exasperated, before rephrasing his earlier statement. "I'm merely suggesting that you should be more...cautious...when it comes to Mr. Jaegerjaques. You know, keep some distance..."

"But why?" Ichigo asked, his frown deepening as he processed his uncle's unsolicited advice. "He's just an unlucky guy who got hurt, don't you think we should be more supportive instead of feeling suspicious of him? He hasn't done anything wrong."

He couldn't believe it. Grimmjow had been here for two months and nothing weird had happened. So the man's identity was still a mystery, so they still had no idea how he got here and what happened to him, that didn't automatically make him a bad character. His uncle was being difficult and completely irrational.

Ichigo knew that Uncle Kisuke had been wary of their guest all along, but this was the first time he had actually addressed the matter so directly. And so secretively, too - the older man had waited until Grimmjow was in the shower before pulling Ichigo aside to have this conversation.

"He's an outsider, a  _stranger_ , Ichigo."

Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest. Inwardly, he snorted. An  _outsider_? Hell, over the past months, Grimmjow had all but become his closest friend, but of course his uncle wouldn't know that. The old fart was too wrapped up in his conspiracy theories for his own good.

"So?" Ichigo snapped, the feeling of disbelief that had been coiling in his stomach beginning to morph into indignant anger.

At that, his uncle's calm exterior finally slipped. "Call it intuition, if you will. Something's off with that man, I can feel it! It's impossible for someone to be completely off the grid to the point that Ishida is unable to find him."

The statement made Ichigo do a double take. "Ishida? Who's Ishida?"

"A...friend of mine," Uncle Kisuke replied after a split-second hesitation.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed as he regarded his uncle. So his uncle had been digging into Grimmjow's background without telling them. Ichigo wasn't sure if he should be happy that Uncle Kisuke was helping - sort of - or angry because his uncle decided to keep this to himself. Surely there was no good reason to hide his effort from Grimmjow. If anything, he _should_  tell Grimmjow.

In the end, Ichigo decided to just reel in his temper for now; there was no point causing drama over this. "You can be paranoid all you want," he said flatly, unable to hide the trace of disgust in his tone. "Don't expect me to turn on him just because you said so."

Then he stalked away stiffly, leaving his uncle standing alone in the darkened kitchen.

* * *

"Teenagers, tch," Kisuke mumbled as he massaged his temples. Alas, the calming effect that normally accompanied that action eluded him today. "They think they know everything."

Thin, graceful fingers threaded through his messy blond locks before Juushirou spoke. "Put yourself in his shoes, Kisuke," the white-haired man said quietly. "He doesn't know about the gun, so it's only natural that he doesn't understand."

Kisuke shifted in his seat and placed his folded arms on the cashier counter. Resting his cheek on top of his forearms, Kisuke turned to face his partner. "Perhaps I should tell him after all," he mused out loud.

He watched as his lover's forehead wrinkle in thought. He knew that Juushirou was just beginning to show signs of concern regarding this matter, and it was only because Ishida _still_ hadn't given them an answer even after so long. The underground hacker slash PhD student had sounded livid in the most recent phone call, claiming that Kisuke was sending him a wild goose chase.

"If even Szayel can't find him, then he doesn't exist," Ishida had said.

Ah, but unfortunately for Kisuke, Grimmjow did exist - in fact, very much alive and well and causing him a lot of headache at the moment. Ichigo was acting increasingly out of character by the day. The boy, once sullen and typically not very talkative, seemed to have transformed into a completely different person in Jaegerjaques' presence.

Kisuke recognized the signs, albeit reluctantly. He, too, had been young once. He remembered his own behavior when he first met Juushirou, before they settled into this "old married couple" routine. He knew, without a doubt, that his nephew was becoming attached to Jaegerjaques. Whether Jaegerjaques realized it or not, though, was unclear. More than once, Kisuke had had the urge to simply confront the man, but his logical mind reminded him that he would only end up alienating Ichigo and perhaps even push the boy even deeper into this complex web called puppy love.

At least, that's what Kisuke hoped it was. The more serious Ichigo was about Girmmjow, the harder he would be crushed when the inevitable end came. And it would come, Kisuke was sure of it. It's just a matter of when and how.

Perhaps it  _was_  time to disclose the discovery of Jaegerjaques' gun to the boy. Kisuke was beginning to regret that he hadn't done so in the first place. Then again, how could he have possibly known that Ichigo would -

His thoughts were cut off abruptly by the melodious clinking of wind chimes at the entrance of the shop. Four men, all dressed in black, strolled in casually through the door.

"Welcome!" he called out.

"Good day," one of the men said with a nod. He was the shortest amongst the group; slim, with narrow shoulders and extremely pale skin. His eyes, so green that it reminded Kisuke of emeralds, exuded aloofness and confidence.

Interesting characters, Kisuke thought as he tipped his head politely in return. He didn't have to turn to know that Juushirou was alert and intrigued as well.

The men separated. The one with green eyes headed for the magazine section, his steps careful and deliberate. Another one - unproportionally tall with a head of jet black hair that flowed just past his shoulders - sauntered to the candy aisle, his strides so slow and relaxed that it was as if he was simply strolling on the beach. The third, a redhead sporting a high ponytail, went over to the beverage cooler. The last member of the group - a brown-haired man with a bored expression - remained standing near the entrance, hands buried in the pockets of his pants.

Each of them were as unique as they were the same; while their stature and features were vastly different, they all wore nearly-identical outfit in black. The one who had spoken was the only one in full suit and tie, while the others were clad slightly less formally in long-sleeved dress shirts with unbuttoned collars.

It seemed as though they were simply browsing aimlessly, though Kisuke knew better. One who was less observant would not have noticed it, but he didn't miss the subtle glances the men exchanged with each other. It wasn't that they were terrible actors; it was simply because Kisuke was a level above them. Decades of voluntary exile had done nothing to dull his sharp instincts and skills, even if he'd had no reason to put them to good use...till now.

 _Jaegerjaques_. Kisuke would bet his own balls that this had everything to do with Jaegerjaques.

The entire time, Juushirou remained silent by his side. Kisuke knew the older man was calmly assessing the situation, scrutinizing every detail of these men, just like he was. While there was no sign of hostility from these customers of theirs, every fiber of Kisuke's being was vigilant; waiting, guessing, gauging.

The spell was broken when the green-eyed man finally ended his magazine-shopping and approached the counter with a car magazine tucked underneath his armpit. Kisuke smiled in greeting as the man pulled out an ordinary-looking wallet and rummaged through the bills before placing the correct change in front of him.

Up close, the man looked deathly pale, his skin so delicate that it was almost translucent.

"This seems like a very quiet place," the man commented in a tone that one might use when chatting about the weather.

Kisuke's smile widened. "That's exactly what I like about it here," he replied. "Old men like us can't afford to be subjected to the hustle and bustle of big cities anymore."

The customer made a sound that - if Kisuke used a liberal amount of imagination - could barely pass as a polite chuckle, but the humor did not reach his eyes. "Have you seen any strangers around here recently?" the man asked casually.

Ah ha.  _There_  it was - the heart of this pointless stalling game.

Kisuke arranged his brows into a look of surprise. "Can't say I have," he said. "Why do you ask?"

By then, the others had gathered behind their leader - the chain of authority was obvious. The skinny, freakishly tall man snapped before the green-eyed one could reply, "It's none of yer business."

"Manners," the leader said simply, his voice no less flat as before, but somehow that word alone managed to silence his companion, who made a face that looked like he'd just swallowed a frog whole. Kisuke received a small nod of apology before the man continued. "We're searching for someone, an associate of ours," he said, eyes trained intently on Kisuke's face. "We have been looking for him for a while, and we fear for his safety."

When Kisuke simply shook his head again, the man slid a small piece of card across the counter towards him. "Please, call this number if you see anyone unusual."

Juushirou piped up, "What does he look like? Surely you must give us a description if you want us to keep an eye out for your friend."

"Tch," the red-haired one scoffed at once. "Ya can't miss 'im, the fucker has blue-"

The green-eyed man snapped his head around sharply, but what's done was done and Kisuke had heard what he needed to hear.

* * *

Grimmjow had to admit that, where the boy lacked in experience, he more than made it up with grace and speed. He grinned as Ichigo's feet missed his cheek by a hair's breadth.

"Very good!" he yelled, giving Ichigo a thumbs-up even as he twisted his body around to land behind the boy. "You're getting faster!"

The peeved expression on Ichigo's face softened slightly at the praise, but his retort was as sharp as ever. "No, you've just gotten slower."

"Ha!"

Life was becoming more bearable to Grimmjow these days. His past was still a stubborn void, but at least his body had completely healed and he was sleeping a little better at night; the latter being a welcomed side-effect from these sparring exercises with Ichigo. It had become a habit, the two of them meeting up in the backyard right before dinner and spending thirty minutes wearing each other out.

It was strange, being able to do this without knowing how he even knew it in the first place. It just felt natural, like his body had a mind of its own. If he was honest with himself, this both excited him and worried him. With skills like that, was he simply an ordinary man who happened to have a liking for martial arts, or was he something... _more_?

A gangster? An assassin? A spy?

Grimmjow snickered out loud as he ran those thoughts in his head again.  _Ridiculous_.

* * *

Ichigo watched the older man smile to himself and wondered what was so funny. He would've asked, except he was still fuming inside, the memory of his uncle's warning - well meaning as they were - still vivid in his mind. Seriously, what was Uncle Kisuke's problem? It just wasn't fair. He was  _eighteen years old_ , a fucking adult, goddamnit - why couldn't his uncle accept that?

Right now, his only consolation was that at least Grimmjow had  _finally_  started to take him a little more seriously. Oh, the man still called him a kid alright, but ever since Grimmjow learned of his family problem, it was as though it suddenly occurred to the man that Ichigo wasn't some immature, snot nosed brat without a care in the world.

"Take a break?"

Startled back to reality by Grimmjow's gruff voice, Ichigo nodded. He made his way slowly to fence and plopped down on the grass next to the man. All of a sudden, he felt exhausted, like his head had decided that it had had enough to think about for the day. It didn't help that his last conversation with his dad didn't exactly go the way he had hoped.

Sighing, he let his head fall back against the fence post behind him.

* * *

Grimmjow glanced at the kid out of the corner of his eye. Ichigo's sweat-soaked hair hung limply over his forehead, the tangerine locks appearing almost golden in the dying sunlight. His face glistened under a light sheen of perspiration, highlighting his cheekbones and angular jaw. As a droplet of sweat slid down along Ichigo's hairline, Grimmjow's gaze followed it, watching it glide down the tanned, flawless skin until it reached his jaw, where it paused for a second before dripping down onto Ichigo's collar bone.

It was plain as day - something was bothering the boy.

"You okay, kid?" Grimmjow gave Ichigo a playful punch on his arm.

Ichigo jerked up, obviously startled out of whatever daydream he had been lost in. He opened his mouth as if to speak, only to clamp it shut a second later.

Grimmjow shook his head. "How's the thing with your dad going?" he tried.

"Not great," Ichigo replied. A scowl tugged at his features. "Dad says I have a month before I have to go home. Said I've been wasting my time out here and that it's time for me to 'man up' and face reality." His jaw muscles flexed as he gritted his teeth. "Stubborn old goat."

Ah.

"Damn," Grimmjow grunted.

"Yeah."

The silence that followed almost made Grimmjow wish that he hadn't brought up the topic, but he knew Ichigo didn't have anyone else to talk to. Now, though, Grimmjow wasn't sure what he could do to cheer the boy up, though he really wanted to. That downturned mouth on Ichigo's face just didn't sit right with him.

Well, when in doubt, always go for the most obvious, right?

"Want to hit a couple more minutes before heading in?"

* * *

Kisuke's fingers tightened around his phone when he recognized the voice on the other end of the line.

"Well, congratulations, Urahara," Ishida said dryly. "You have a dead man on your hands."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

Ichigo felt so tired that he would fall onto his knees if he could, but Grimmjow's taunting jeers stoked his pride enough to keep him on his feet and gritting his teeth in frustration. He knew that the older man was just trying to distract him from his troubles, but there couldn't possibly be a worst solution than this - having the very cause of his headache jumping around in front of him, teasing him, calling him a  _girl_.

Couldn't Grimmjow  _tell_  how hard it was for Ichigo to remain as calm as he was already? How he had to use every ounce of self control to suppress his urge to stare at the man all day, how he had to keep turning away to hide the blush on his cheeks whenever Grimmjow came a little too close, how he had to secretly take care of himself in the bathroom in the middle of the night because of the dreams that constantly haunted him...

The bark of laughter reached Ichigo's ears just a second too late. By the time Ichigo recovered his breath from a stinging punch in the gut, Grimmjow was already circling him again, hopping lightly on the balls of his feet while sporting a wide, almost predatory grin on his face.

How was it that this man seemed to have boundless energy?

The thought brought a indignant scowl on Ichigo's face. This was ridiculous. There was no way he was just going to stand there and take this shit. Sucking in a deep breath, he gathered all his strength and pounced.

A burst of satisfaction spread through his limbs the moment his foot collided with solid muscle. He heard - with another surge of victory - Grimmjow's breath leave his chest with an audible whoosh, then the man doubled over and toppled forward with both arms wrapped around his stomach.

_Yes!_

"Take that!" Ichigo yelled, pumping his fist in the air.

Grimmjow groaned and rolled over to his side, still clutching his abdomen. His bangs, stringy and darkened to the shade of cobalt blue from dampness, fell across his forehead and covered his eyes.

Ichigo rolled his eyes at the older man's dramatic antics and padded over to the prone form on the ground. "That's for calling me a girl, asshole!" He grinned, extending an arm to help Grimmjow to his feet.

When the older man only groaned again and drew his knees closer to his chest, Ichigo's smile faltered.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad," he scoffed, although his heart did sink a little.

Grimmjow grunted in response, his cheek firmly pressed into the dirt beneath him. Ichigo's stomach lurched in dread as he watched the man curl his body into an even smaller ball.

Frowning now, Ichigo fell into a crouch and placed his hand tentatively on Grimmjow's bicep. The man didn't react. The only sound coming from him was shaky gasps that sounded positively alarming.

"Shit," Ichigo murmured. His heart started to pound in his ribcage - for once it wasn't because of his proximity to his crush. Did he break a rib? Puncture a lung? Panic began to seize him.

"Grimmjow, look at me!" he pleaded. The man turned his head just a fraction, but his features remained scrunched in pain. "Shit, I'm going to go get Tessai! Don't move!"

Ichigo patted Grimmjow's shoulder and sprang up, but before he could straighten up competely, his wrist was caught in a vice grip.

"Got ya!"

Ichigo froze and watched in disbelief as Grimmjow sat up; still clutching his middle, except this time he was cackling like a mad man.

For a split second, Ichigo's mind went blank.

Was this Grimmjow's idea of a joke? Did he think it was funny to fool around with someone's emotions like that? Did he not know how genuinely frantic Ichigo was feeling? Did he think it was  _fucking easy_  for Ichigo to keep everything bottled inside all this while-

Something within Ichigo snapped.

* * *

"What do you mean?" Kisuke asked, keeping his voice light-hearted despite his shock.

A different voice - slightly more feminine than Ishida's but just as arrogant - replied cooly, "Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was killed in the line of duty six years ago."

"Well, if you want to get technical, it wasn't officially  _in the line of duty_ ," Ishida took over from Szayel. "He was an agent, part of a highly secretive team of operatives that specializes in international human trafficking. Six years ago, when he was working on a case, his lover was murdered as a warning."

Kisuke closed his eyes.

"He went after them," Szayel said. "The agency explicitly denied his request to participate in the operation, but he went anyway."

Silence followed. Kisuke pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to admit, this wasn't an outcome that he had expected. He would never say it out loud, but he secretly felt a little relieved - Jaegerjaques being an agent of justice was infinitely better than the alternative, but this didn't explain his miraculous resurrection and the circumstances that led to his arrival at Kisuke's doorstep. Who knew what could've happened to the man since then?

As the two informants remained quiet on the other end of the line, Kisuke pondered his options. After waiting so long, this was exactly what he  _didn't_  need - an answer that only raised even more questions.

And those men...

Kisuke sucked in a deep breath.

"I need you two to look up these men for me."

* * *

When the kid went still and turned red in the face, Grimmjow's first thought was that  _maybe_ he had gone a  _little_  too far. He half-expected a slap, or maybe a kick in the nuts, but _this_...

Ichigo sat on the ground in silence; hugging his knees with his face buried between his arms, his body angled away from Grimmjow. The boy looked as though he was simply resting, but Grimmjow knew he was anything but.

The contact had been brief, a little clumsy and so full of anger that Grimmjow was stunned speechless. He could almost still feel Ichigo's palms on his cheeks, where the boy had grabbed him before crushing their lips together forcefully. And then Ichigo had shoved him away so roughly that Grimmjow had actually fallen back onto his elbows.

He thought the kid would flee afterwards, but Ichigo didn't. The teen had glared at him, cheeks flushed and brows drawn, looking both furious and conflicted at the same time before curling himself up in his current position.

Grimmjow stared at the huddled form in front of him, half in disbelief, half in comprehension. Everything was beginning to make sense - the boy's tendency to stare, to blush for no apparent reason and his seething dislike for being called a child - now Grimmjow wondered how he had never realized this before.

A small voice in his head chided him: was he really that ignorant?

He thought back of the times he'd teased Ichigo, purposely riling him up just to see the kid squirm, red-faced and flustered. How many times had he caught Ichigo gazing at him, admiring his body, and how many times had he intentionally  _let_  him? And  _shit_ , wasn't he just doing the same to Ichigo not ten minutes ago? What pure-hearted man would look at someone else's body like that?

On hindsight, when it all boiled down at the end of the day, it wasn't that he didn't recognized the signs; he had simply refused to accept them for what they were.

"You shouldn't get involved with someone like me," Grimmjow found himself saying automatically, feeling an odd twinge of wistfulness as the words left him.

Ichigo's head snapped up immediately. "If you're going to preach to me about my age, you can shove it," he said with a heated scowl.

Grimmjow resisted the urge to laugh. He had expected this much. This fire, this stubbornness, was part of the teenager he had come to know after all.

"It's not just that, Ichigo. You don't even know who I am," he said truthfully. "Fuck,  _I_  don't know who I am. I don't want you to-"

He never got to finish his sentence, because all of a sudden he was flat on his back with Ichigo sitting heavily on top of him. Before he could utter another word, Ichigo's hands were on his collar, shaking him violently and screaming almost hysterically.

"Stop treating me like I'm five years old!"

Grimmjow winced as the back of his head hit the ground with a loud thud, and then again, and again, until Ichigo finally let go of him. The boy sat there, straddling his torso, fingers still curled limply around his t-shirt.

"Why can't people see that I can take care of myself?" Ichigo muttered bitterly.

 _It's not that simple_ , Grimmjow wanted to say, but right at that moment, a deep booming voice announced that dinner was ready.

* * *

To say that dinner was awkward would be an understatement.

Ichigo didn't know what it was, but there was just this weird tension in the air; it wasn't exactly hostile, just...uncomfortable. Uncle Kisuke and Juushirou chatted just like usual. Nothing seemed obviously wrong. His uncle wasn't ignoring him; it was like the argument in the morning had never happened. Yet, something was definitely off - he just couldn't put a finger on it.

Then again, he had his own problems to worry about. He wasn't sure if Tessai had overheard their conversation, although honestly at this point he couldn't care less. He could accept it if Grimmjow simply wasn't interested in him, but to hear  _that_  kind of excuse again...it was  _infuriating_. He wished he could say that he was surprised, but he wasn't, not really. He'd been hoping that Grimmjow would be different, but it looked like the man was just like the rest; automatically assuming that he couldn't think for himself just because he was younger than them and forcing their decision on him for the sake of  _his own good_.

He tried hard not to take out his frustration on his dinner, but as the fish fillet on his plate crumbled into pieces under the assault of his fork, he gave up.

"I'm not feeling well," he muttered, standing up.

He was out of the dining room before anyone could question him, then he slipped into his room and locked the door behind him. He let his face fall into his palms, feeling the burn on his cheeks and the insistent throbbing in the back of his eyes. He refused to cry - he was going to take this like the adult he was and accept that, once in a while, rejection was just a part of life. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't feel disappointed.

 _It just wasn't fair_.

Slumping back against the wooden door, he let his body slide down until he ended up sitting on the floor. But before he could continue to feel sorry for himself, there was a knock on the door, followed by a low, gruff murmur of "It's me". Sighing, he scrambled to his feet and unlocked the door.

Slowly, hesitantly, the door knob turned.

* * *

"Ichigo?"

At his voice, the boy turned to him, lips set in a thin straight line.

Grimmjow bit back a sigh. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be, I don't need your pity."

Something twisted in Grimmjow's chest as his eyes went to the trembling, tightly-balled fists pressed against Ichigo's thighs and then back to the boy's face. This wasn't right. That look - the hurt, the barely-concealed humiliation etched onto those features - didn't belong there.

"Just...tell me the truth, Grimmjow." The gaze that met his was determined even as it betrayed the boy's nervousness. "Under different circumstances...say you don't have this...problem, would your answer be the same?"

If he didn't have this  _problem_? If he didn't have to worry about dragging this innocent, overly-trusting young man into a tangled web of unknowns? Fuck, who was he kidding? Ichigo was the only comforting presence in his current life, he'd be lying if he said that the thought of having the boy in his arms was not an enticing one.

His moment of hesitation was enough for Ichigo to come to his own conclusion.

"Then  _screw_  circumstances! Who was the one who told me to 'live my life', huh? Who was the one who told me that I'm  _stupid_  for letting my dad control me?" Ichigo yelled.

Grimmjow's eyes widened.

"Fucking hypocrite!"

He caught the swinging arm just in time. Ichigo struggled, twisting and turning like a trapped wild cat in an attempt to wrench his arm out of his grasp, but Grimmjow held on.

God, that boy had no idea how tempting this was. He had  _no_  idea.

* * *

If Ichigo hadn't completely lost it out there in the backyard, he certainly had now. He didn't care if he was making a fool of himself in front of Grimmjow anymore. He was simply stating the truth, and the truth was that Grimmjow had let him down.

He tried to pry the older man's fingers off of his wrist with his free hand, but that son of a bitch had him in an iron vice and all he got for his effort was more pain. He was just about to raise his leg to knee the man in the groin when Grimmjow grabbed his other arm.

"Oh for fuck's sake, I'll let go when you calm down, okay?" the older man said in exasperation.

Ichigo stilled, and sure enough, Grimmjow relaxed his grip immediately. He expected the man to release his arms, but instead of letting go completely, he was suddenly yanked forward. Before he could comprehend what was happening, a pair of lips descended on his, silencing his yelp of surprise and almost bringing his heart to a skidding stop.

For a moment, Ichigo thought he was dreaming; perhaps his wishful thinking had led him to hallucinate, but this felt too real - the texture of Grimmjow's lips, the wetness from his tongue, the hand that was slowly pulling him closer - no, he was creative but not  _this_  creative.

"Why?" he gasped when they finally broke for air. He stared into the deep pools of blue in front of him, feeling too confused to be elated yet. His pulse began to race as he felt himself being pressed against the older man's muscled chest.

"I only have so much self control, you know," came the raspy reply. "I hope you understand what you're getting into, because I can't promise anything."

"I know," Ichigo mumbled.

The pair of large, burning hot hands finally left his wrists to cup the sides of his face. His breath hitched in his throat as Grimmjow ran a thumb across his cheek and leaned in.

"You do realize..." Grimmjow murmured against his lips. "...that I'm twice your age."

"Mm hmm."

"And that your uncle's not going to like this."

Ichigo shuddered when Grimmjow gave his lower lip a quick nip. "I don't care."

" _And_ your dad will probably kill you."

"Shut up."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 8

Everything was becoming a dreamy blur to Ichigo. Dazed and disoriented from giddiness, he allowed himself to be pulled onto the older man's lap as they settled down on the floor. He clung to Grimmjow, straddling the man's hips, fingers entwined in Grimmjow's t-shirt as the man leaned back against the side of the bed.

Ichigo let his eyes slide close as he felt Grimmjow's hand slip underneath the hem of his t-shirt. The hot, calloused palm ghosted over Ichigo's stomach before circling around to caress the small of his back, leaving a trail of raging inferno in its wake.

"Is this okay?" murmured Grimmjow.

Ichigo nodded wordlessly, his forehead brushing against the older man's bangs. His throat felt dry and tight, as though he hadn't had anything to drink for  _years._  His heart pounded erratically like it was going to burst out of his chest, and when Grimmjow's hand dipped into his waistband, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust from excitement alone.

This was beyond any of the dreams he'd had; so much more thrilling, so much more arousing that it was actually beginning to  _hurt_. He had never been so hard before; his length throbbing and straining within the confines of his pants, just  _begging_  to be touched.

He stifled a groan as Grimmjow shifted, causing him to slide down; their bodies now so close that he could feel the growing bulge between Grimmjow's legs. Instinctively, Ichigo bucked his hips, rubbing their clothed erection together and seeking more friction until he was suddenly restrained by a pair of strong arms.

"Not like this," Grimmjow said, his deep voice somehow managing to sound rough and sensual at the same time.

Ichigo panted, nearly whining when Grimmjow pushed him away slightly to reach his fly. He dug his fingernails into Grimmjow's shoulders as his zipper was tugged down - inch after agonizing inch until it was finally undone. He bit back a hiss as the older man ran his knuckles along his swollen length through his thin boxers; teasing him,  _torturing_  him while he sat trembling on Grimmjow's thighs.

As Ichigo let slip a muffled moan, Grimmjow tightened his grip on his hip and leaned into him. "You're so fucking sensitive," the older man growled into his ear. Ichigo shuddered.

"I've never..." he whispered shakily.  _Nobody has ever touched me like this_ , he wanted to say, but the words simply refused to budge from his throat.

Even so, the message was apparently clear enough, because Grimmjow immediately went still beneath him. Then, like a man who suddenly realized that he was starving, Grimmjow caught a handful of Ichigo's hair and yanked him down for a deep, fiery kiss. Ichigo jerked as sharp teeth grazed his skin, but he recovered quickly, not wanting to be completely overpowered by the older man. He pushed past Grimmjow's parted lips and sucked hungrily on the man's probing tongue, his breath becoming harsher, his blood boiling, roaring in his ears as urgency escalated. His body moved on its own accord, pressing and rocking against Grimmjow's arousal, guided purely by instinct.

Ichigo was so immersed in the fight for dominance, so blissfully unaware of his surroundings that he didn't even realize that his boxers had been pulled down and that he was free, so when his cock was suddenly engulfed in Grimmjow's searing hot fist, he was so surprised that he bit into Grimmjow's lower lip. The older man grunted in pain but didn't stop; his hand alternating between light, gentle stroking and hard tugging movements; twisting, squeezing until Ichigo begged him to stop.

"I can't-" Ichigo gasped, his features scrunched up in a mixture of pleasure and panic as he struggled to keep his climax at bay. He was so close -  _too close._  He didn't want to do this alone. He pushed Grimmjow's hands aside and fumbled with the man's zipper, his trembling fingers slipping and missing their target multiple times before finally succeeding.

The sight that greeted him had him gaping in awe for a good five seconds - the first time he got so up close and personal with equipment that wasn't his own. Carefully, tentatively, he reached out to touch it, pleasantly surprised to find that Grimmjow's skin was silky smooth beneath his fingers.

"It's not gonna bite you, you know."

Ichigo lifted his head and scowled at Grimmjow, who was looking at him with a lopsided grin; the man's half-lidded, lust-filled eyes holding more than a hint of amusement. Ichigo opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Grimmjow's hand joined his to wrap around  _both_ of them.

"Ungh!" Ichigo cried out, jerking, his nails digging even harder into Grimmjow's shoulders.

This was almost too much, the sensation of being held so tightly by the man he had wanted for months, feeling his arousal throbbing, burning hot against Grimmjow's as the man continued to trap them both in his fist, hand pumping and stroking at a steady pace. Ichigo could barely keep his eyes open, yet he couldn't bear to look away from Grimmjow's face. He wanted to savor every moment - every drop of sweat that ran down the man's face, every frown, every moan that fell from those slightly-parted lips.

As he continued to watch, Grimmjow leaned forward and pulled him in for another deep, smothering kiss before peppering brief pecks along Ichigo's jawline. Ichigo let out a soft mewl when the exploring mouth moved down to his neck, licking and nipping at the delicate skin there, and then, as another whispered groan was wrenched from Ichigo's throat, it went back up to his lips. There, Grimmjow's tongue mimicked his hand movements, delving in and out between Ichigo's lips at the same quickening pace. Eyes sliding closed once more, Ichigo moaned helplessly into Grimmjow's mouth. He felt his own breath becoming more and more ragged, and then just as he thought his eyes were going to roll back into his head, an especially hard squeeze finally sent him spiraling over the edge with a strangled sob. For a moment, Ichigo's mind went blank but for one thing: Grimmjow's voice - hoarse and breathless as Ichigo shuddered violently, his release so powerful that he immediately felt exhausted.

Sighing weakly, Ichigo slumped forward and rested his forehead against Grimmjow's. He could tell that the older man was also nearing his own peak, his movements becoming erratic, almost frantic. Ichigo swayed along with the bucking of Grimmjow's hips, then, as Ichigo watched with wide, greedy eyes, Grimmjow threw his head back and let out a choked cry, his broad frame going rigid beneath Ichigo.

Ichigo whimpered before he could stop himself. So this was how Grimmjow looked in the throes of passion - eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, teeth clenched tight, hair hanging damp and limp over his forehead - Ichigo commited it all in his memory, every precious second of it before he collapsed onto the man's chest, suddenly too tired to hold himself upright anymore.

* * *

"Fuck," Grimmjow groaned into Ichigo's hair.

He didn't think it was possible for something so simple to feel so intense, and he was hard pressed to believe there could  _anything_  better than this. God, he daren't even imagine what it would feel like when - if - they went all the way.

Running his fingers through Ichigo's bright orange locks, Grimmjow took in a deep breath, taking in the boy's comforting scent. Ichigo was still panting lightly, his breath warm against Grimmjow's skin even through his t-shirt.

"You okay?" Grimmjow asked, wrapping his other arm around Ichigo's waist.

Ichigo nodded and mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

Grimmjow chuckled. "Not before we shower, come on."

He spent the next few minutes wrestling with Ichigo to get the boy back on his feet and into the bathroom, where he stripped the remaining clothing from Ichigo's body. He had to bite back a moan when the boy's lean form and well-defined abdomen came into view. Forcing himself to look away, Grimmjow got out of his own clothes and pulled Ichigo into the shower stall with him.

_Don't scare the kid...don't scare the kid..._

His thoughts were cut off when Ichigo's lips suddenly descended on his. The kiss was a little clumsy at first, Ichigo's fatigue showing, and then it picked up. The spray of near-scalding water seemed to have revived the boy, and before Grimmjow knew it, they were both hot and flustered again.

Ichigo's skin was as smooth as it looked, and Grimmjow couldn't stop touching it even if he tried. His hands roamed freely, drawing circles on Ichigo's hips and massaging the muscles beneath the taut skin. When Ichigo started to moan loudly, Grimmjow silenced him with another kiss.

"Shhh," he murmured. Their voice bounced right off the tiled walls, filling the tiny space with a hollow echo, sounding much louder than they had been in the room.

Ichigo stuck out his tongue sheepishly and clamped a palm over his mouth.

"Remember, whatever you do, don't make a sound," Grimmjow warned in a whisper, a grin tugging on his lips as something evil formed in his head.

As Ichigo nodded, Grimmjow guided the boy to stand against the wall, his hands sliding down the sides of Ichigo's torso before coming to a stop on his hips. Then, with a wide, wicked smirk, Grimmjow dropped slowly into a crouch.

* * *

Ichigo expected the third degree from his uncle the next day about his outburst at dinner the night before, but it never came. In fact, the only time he saw his uncle during the day was when the man hurried by in a beeline for his office, the chordless phone wedged snugly between his jaw and shoulder.

Of course, good things never lasted.

When dinner time rolled along, Uncle Kisuke finally made an appearance, looking uncharacteristically somber. He seemed lost in his own world, brows knitted together in a frown that usually meant he was trying to solve a particularly difficult problem. Juushirou, too, seemed especially quiet. All in all, it was another awkward, silent dinner at which Tessai was the only one eating with gusto.

And it was when Ichigo was helping his uncle with the dishes that the man completely ruined his good mood.

Ichigo had been grinning to himself like an idiot, his head filled with images of Grimmjow on his knees in front of him and wondering what might be in store for him later that night. Then, a cough cut through his less-than-innocent thoughts, and Ichigo looked up to see his uncle peering at him curiously, one arm extended to take the stack of dirty dishes from Ichigo.

"Earth to Ichigo?" Uncle Kisuke asked with a raised eyebrow, his voice light-hearted even though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Ichigo hastily handed over the dishes, and was just about to go back to the dining table to gather the leftover silverware when his wrist was suddenly seized by his uncle. He yelped in surprise and struggled, but Uncle Kisuke held him in a vice; the already strained smile gone from the man's face.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Ichigo followed his uncle's gaze and felt himself blush fiercely as he realized the source of his uncle's question, his free arm flying unconsciously to his neck to hide the marks that Grimmjow had so thoughtfully left behind last night.

"Ichigo, what did I-" Uncle Kisuke began.

Ichigo bristled immediately at the man's patronizing tone. "Yes, it  _is_  what you think it is," he said flatly before his uncle could finish his admonishment, then he straightened to his full height and met the older man's eyes. "You can't stop me," he ground out. "If you can't accept it, then I'll leave. I'll go home with Grimmjow and-"

"Don't be stupid," Uncle Kisuke said curtly. "I'm not going to kick you out. I was hoping that you'd to be careful, that's all, but since you refuse to listen to me..." The blonde's eyes softened slightly as he regarded Ichigo fondly. "You will be crushed, Ichigo."

"Why do you have to assume the worst?" Ichigo demanded, anger welling up in his chest.

A stretch of tense silence followed as his uncle continued to look at him; the man's eyes stormy as though he was fighting some inner battle. At any other time, Ichigo would've asked if his uncle was alright, but now, he was simply too frustrated to care.

"Have you ever considered that the man could be involved in something dangerous? That  _you_  might get hurt because of him? _"_ Uncle Kisuke asked.

Ichigo stared at his uncle, surprised at the seriousness of the man's tone. In the years that Ichigo had known the man, he had never seen this side of him, and if Ichigo was honest with himself, it was rather disturbing. It doused the fire in his chest just slightly, but it didn't stop him from standing his ground.

"I trust my own judgement, but if that's how it's destined to be, then so be it," he said stubbornly.

The last thing Ichigo heard when he turned his back to his uncle and stormed away from the kitchen was a defeated sigh.

* * *

Guilt. Doubt. Fury. Indignation.

Grimmjow sat on the edge of the bed and stewed silently as those emotions swirled in his stomach.

He shouldn't feel so surprised, he supposed. He'd always known that Urahara Kisuke didn't really like him, but to actually think of him as a  _threat_  to Ichigo - he didn't think the blonde shopkeeper would go that far. It hurt, to be honest, to hear that - accidentally as it may; to find out that his host thought of him that way when he hadn't done anything wrong all this time.

Of course he had considered the possibility that he had a shady background. Nobody turned up in the middle of nowhere with mysterious injuries without some kind of  _unusual_ explanation, but for the life of him, he just couldn't imagine what could've happened to him. He didn't think of himself as a criminal even though he recognized that he had the potential to be violent. He had a lot of anger, but wasn't that normal for someone in his situation? Who wouldn't become frustrated and irritable like this?

Now, more than ever, he realized with shocking clarity that Ichigo was the only thing that kept him sane amidst this nightmare. The boy had been here for him for as long as he could remember - literally - ever since he opened his eyes to find himself in a foreign place, all alone. And Ichigo had trusted him, accepted him without question. Ichigo had welcomed him, not just into his life but into his heart.

Grimmjow couldn't think of anything more frightening than that.

Perhaps Urahara was right to ask Ichigo to be wary. Who knew what could happen to Ichigo? What if Grimmjow woke up one day and found out that he was a wanted man, a murderer? What would Ichigo do then? Yet, the very thought of giving Ichigo up now made him nauseous. He hated himself for being so weak, so selfish. The right thing to do for someone like him would be to walk away while he still could; protect the boy from himself.

But... _god_ , he couldn't leave, not when he had just realized how important Ichigo was to him.

"You heard."

Startled, Grimmjow lifted his head to find Ichigo standing at the doorway. The boy shut the door behind him and padded over to sit next to Grimmjow.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo muttered. "The old fart is just overreacting as usual. Don't take it personally."

Grimmjow couldn't help but chuckle. "How else am I supposed to take it?"

Ichigo scowled. "I'm serious, don't-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a loud, booming crack that sounded almost like a clap of thunder.

Except, Grimmjow knew it  _wasn't_  thunder. He hadn't the slightest clue  _how_  he knew, but he  _knew_  without a doubt that the sound was from a shotgun.

* * *

 

**To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

The wild coyote took off into the darkness even as the echo from the crack of the shotgun lingered in the cool night air.

"Ah, should've waited for a few more minutes," Kisuke sighed as Tessai turned back with a peeved expression, the nozzle of the gun in the man's hands still smoking.

Juushirou peered at the backdoor with a worried frown. "I still think we should've given them a heads-up before doing this, Kisuke..." he admonished quietly.

Right on cue, the door burst open and two shadowy figures tumbled into the dimly-lit backyard.

"What was that!" Ichigo yelled, rushing out in his usual hot-headed, impulsive fashion.

Kisuke watched in surprise - careful to shield his eyes under the shade of his ridiculous bucket hat - as Jaegerjaques's hand shot out to seize his nephew's wrist. Ignoring Ichigo's yelp of protest, the taller man yanked the boy back and shoved him behind himself, effectively shielding Ichigo with his own body.

 _Interesting_ , Kisuke mused, suppressing the urge to raise an eyebrow as he took in Jaegerjaques' narrowed eyes and tightly clenched jaw. The man's body was tense and alert, his feet planted firmly on the ground in a defensive stance, the muscles in his corded arms flexing as though he was facing an enemy that was about to lunge at him at any moment.

And then those crystalline eyes rested on Tessai, who was still holding the shotgun. Kisuke caught a ripple of confusion in Jaegerjaques' gaze before the man asked in a clipped voice, "What happened?"

Kisuke cleared his throat. "We've noticed coyote activity out here recently and thought that we should get rid of them," he replied casually.

"By shooting them?" Ichigo piped up incredulously, peeking his head out from behind his taller companion, whose arms were still spread protectively in front of the boy.

Kisuke shrugged. "We did manage to chase one away, didn't we, Tessai?"

The burly, mustached man nodded sagely without a word.

For a moment nobody else spoke, and it looked as if the incident was resolved and everyone was going to head back indoors now that the coyotes were gone. Kisuke pondered his observations in silence; he wasn't sure what he was truly expecting when he decided to carry out this experiment. Jaegerjaques' behavior had proven intriguing, yet this didn't tell Kisuke much else. It was a bit of a long shot, but Kisuke had been hoping that the sound and sight of a gun would elicit a stronger reaction from the man.

"Are you  _out of your fucking mind_?"

Kisuke froze mid-stride, his reverie cut off abruptly by the sudden outburst by Jaegerjaques. He whipped his head around to see the man still standing rooted on the same spot, face flushed an angry red and lips pulled back in a snarl that could rival a predatory cat's.

"You think this is funny?" The already-brilliant blue eyes gleamed with fury, visible even under the dim lighting. "It's fucking dangerous! What if we'd been out here, huh?"

Ichigo grabbed the larger man, looking a little bewildered, as Jaegerjaques took a threatening step towards Kisuke. "It's okay, Grimmjow, calm down."

"It's  _not_  okay!" Jaegerjaques snapped, even though his features softened slightly. "You could've warned us! Do you know how shocked we were? How  _worried_  we were? Fuck, I thought-"

Jaegerjaques' breath caught for a second as he paused, frowning as though he was searching for words.

"Yes?" Kisuke said slowly, staring intently at his mysterious guest. "What did you think happened, Mr. Jaegerjaques?"

The man's frown deepened. "How...how would I know? But that's not the point! You scared us half to death! Ichigo was so worried about you..."

Ichigo nodded furiously as his face took on an almost identical scowl. In the meantime, Kisuke kept his eyes locked on Jaegerjaques' until the man looked away with a huff.

 _Interesting_.

"I apologize for that," Kisuke said finally, bowing his head slightly. "It won't happen again."

* * *

Grimmjow listened to the steady tick-tock of the wall clock, his eyes wide and alert despite the late hour. Ichigo lay snoring softly next to him, the two of them squeezed snugly under the covers on Ichigo's bed. The boy had spent almost an hour ranting about his uncle's foolishness, but had eventually given in to his exhaustion and fallen asleep, curled on his side with his back pressed flush against Grimmjow's chest.

Grimmjow clutched the corner of his pillow restlessly and bit back a growl. His pulse was still racing, his heartbeat loud and rapid in his chest even though it had been hours since the stupid coyote incident.

He had been  _so sure_  that something terrible had happened, that someone had gotten hurt. The sheer panic that had seized him was mind-numbing, but the part that rattled him the most was that, for a fleeting moment, he had felt a sharp pang of d _éjà_  vu. There was no other explanation: this feeling of dread and his unusual reaction must be somehow connected to his lost memories, it  _had_  to be.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It was  _so close_  - whatever it was - he could feel it, just beyond his grasp; that nagging feeling that he was missing something obvious, a chunk of his past.

 _God_ , he had never longed for anything so much in his life. He wanted to  _remember_.

* * *

_He was running._

_Running._

_Running._

_There were footsteps behind him._

_He had to run faster._

_He ran and ran, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, body pumped full of adrenaline._

_He had no idea where he was running to, or why he was running, or who he was running_   _from. He just knew that he had to run._

_Run. Run. Run!_

_His lungs screamed for oxygen as he propelled himself forward. There was nothing ahead and around him, just a blanket of white - no obstacles, no goal, no end that he could see._

_Why was he running again?_

_The footsteps were getting closer. That was all he could hear - footsteps. Someone was running after him, but who was it? He wanted so badly to turn around to look, to find out who he was running from, but he couldn't afford to stop._

_Run. He could only keep running._

_He lost track of time. How long had he been running? It could be minutes, or hours. He didn't know. He was tired, his limbs becoming heavier with every step he took. He forced himself to continue. Left. Right. Left. Right. His feet hit the ground only to take off again. His knees were beginning to hurt._

_Breathe. Run. Breathe._

_And then..._

_He skidded to a stop. Air left his lungs in a painful whoosh as his vision went black for a split second. His chest hurt. It hurt. It hurt so much that he fell to his knees. He clawed at his chest but it was useless. The pain was becoming worse. He couldn't breathe. He tasted bile at the back of his throat._

_The footsteps slowed down behind him._

_He didn't care. They could have him._

_He had no reason to run anymore._

* * *

"Grimmjow!"

His head hurt. Someone was shaking him. He groaned softly and frowned. Did he have to run again? Was someone asking him to run?

"Grimmjow! Wake up!"

Grimmjow's eyes flew open as a stinging slap snapped his head to the side. He bolted upright with a gasp, clutching his chest but finding nothing but bare skin.

"What happened?"

Ichigo's near-hysterical voice finally registered in Grimmjow's mind. He grabbed the boy's arms right as another punch came swinging towards him. Relief flooded Ichigo's face at once.

"What the hell happened?" the teen asked, his features still stricken with panic.

"A dream," Grimmjow muttered, more to himself than to Ichigo. "I had a dream."

Ichigo stilled. "What was it about?"

Grimmjow pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. What was his dream about? It was hazy, he remembered nothing but the urge to run. Why did he need to run? He remained silent for a long time and was startled back to the present only when Ichigo placed a tentative hand on his thigh.

"Did you remember something?" the boy asked quietly.

Grimmjow blinked. "Maybe," he replied truthfully. "I...I don't know."

He went silent again for a long time, his mind a turmoil of confusion and inexplicable fear. Was the dream about his past? The more he thought about it, the blurrier it got, and by the time he shook himself out of his stupor again, the dream was so distant that he wondered fleetingly if it had even happened. Running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, he turned to Ichigo. His stomach immediately flip-flopped when he met the boy's worried gaze. He could tell that Ichigo was afraid - perhaps afraid to find out what he had dreamt about, or perhaps he had scared the kid awake, judging by Ichigo's reaction.

"I'm sorry," Grimmjow murmured, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair in apology.

Ichigo looked uncertain. "You were screaming like you're in pain," he said.

Oh. That would explain a lot. Grimmjow drew the boy close and buried his nose in the jagged orange spikes. "I'm sorry," Grimmjow mumbled into Ichigo's hair. "It was just a bad dream. I'm fine."

He felt Ichigo's arms wrap around his shoulders protectively. He shifted, twisting his body around so that he could give the boy a proper hug, then he pulled away to cup Ichigo's cheek. A faint dusting of pink appeared on the boy's face at once. Curling his fingers under Ichigo's chin, Grimmjow tilted the teen's head upwards and leaned closer until their lips were only a hair's breadth apart. Ichigo blushed several shades redder and peered back at him through thick fans of eyelashes.

Despite his somber mood, Grimmjow felt himself stir at the sight. Ichigo was clearly nervous, yet here he was, blatantly offering himself to Grimmjow, his youthful, untainted body warm and willing and  _yearning_  for his touch. Grimmjow would have to be a piece of wood  _not_  to be affected.

With that thought in mind, Grimmjow closed his eyes and pressed his lips onto his younger lover's. A tremor of arousal coursed through his veins when Ichigo breathed a soft moan into his mouth, the boy's hands plunging into his electric blue locks as their bodies melded into each other.

"Grimm..." Ichigo whispered against Grimmjow's lips, his voice so quiet that it was barely audible.

"Hmm?"

"Do you want me?"

Grimmjow's eyes widened at the seemingly innocent question. Was Ichigo asking what he thought he was asking?

"Of course I do," Grimmjow replied carefully.

"Good." Grimmjow felt the boy's lips quirk into a smile against his own. "Because  _I_  want you."

Grimmjow's belly fluttered as his heart rate skyrocketed again, this time for an entirely different - and a much more welcome - reason.

"Tonight," Ichigo added, his voice becoming even softer - whether from shyness or nervousness, Grimmjow wasn't sure.

"Tonight?" Grimmjow echoed dumbly.

"Right now," the boy nodded, finally opening his eyes to look into Grimmjow's.

Grimmjow met the dark ochre eyes - up close, he could see how dillated the pupils were - and felt another jolt of desire course through his body. God knows he wanted so much to say yes. But want and should were two completely different beasts, and right now...

As he battled with himself inside, he vaguely registered the sound of a drawer being opened and closed, then the next thing he knew, he was knocked onto his back, landing bodily on the mattress with Ichigo's full weight pressing down on him. The boy's breath came in soft, rapid pants; the small, moist puffs of air warm against Grimmjow's face. Ichigo stared down at him, holding a packet of condom carefully between his teeth, brows slightly furrowed in determination.

"Where did you get  _that_?" Grimmjow snorted in surprise, although he had to admit that Ichigo looked downright seductive in that pose.

Ichigo's face reddened. "Stole it from my uncle," he mumbled in an embarrassed tone before arranging his features into a scowl. "I'm not a child anymore," the teen stated firmly. As if to drive that point home further, he ground his pelvis against Grimmjow. The rigid bulge hidden in the boy's checkered boxers was unmistakable.

Grimmjow closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. This was a test of will if there ever was one; and he was failing miserably. Already, his worrying dream was but a faraway memory, shoved aside as his more carnal needs surfaced. As though he could sense it, Ichigo dropped the packet with a quick shake of his head and leaned down to plant soft, brief kisses along Grimmjow's forehead, down his cheek and over his jaw before capturing Grimmjow's lips in a wet, sloppy kiss.

"Ichigo, I..." Grimmjow murmured, feeling his self restraint slip through his fingers under the boy's touches.

A deep, rumbling groan erupted from his throat when a hand palmed his awakening length through his shorts. Where he was lacking in experience, Ichigo was certainly making up for it with his enthusiasm.

"Ichigo, if you don't stop now, there will be no turning back," Grimmjow groaned, unconsciously rolling his hips into his lover's hand.

Ichigo's only response was to tighten his grip on Grimmjow's cock.

That was answer enough, and with a hoarse, almost animalistic growl, Grimmjow became completely unravelled. Clutching Ichigo's shoulder and waist, he flipped them over before the teen could even blink. Ichigo's mouth fell open almost comically, but his grin returned when he sensed the change in Grimmjow's heated eyes.

Grimmjow nudged the boy's legs apart to make way for himself, then he ducked down and claimed the awaiting lips beneath him. He laved his tongue languidly over the delicate skin and moaned when he felt Ichigo shiver against his body.

After giving his younger lover another searing kiss, Grimmjow moved downwards, leaving a trail of licks and nips along Ichigo's jawline, down the slender column of his neck to the dip between his collar bones. From there, he shifted back up to the junction between the boy's neck and shoulder and bit down lightly, growling low in his throat when Ichigo let out a long, drawn moan. Supporting himself on one elbow, Grimmjow ran his free hand along his lover's torso, starting from the lean pectorals down to the boy's trembling abdomen and back up to ghost over a nipple, grinning when Ichigo gasped and jerked at the contact. Grimmjow almost hissed when the teen's prominent erection bumped against his thigh, reminding him of how sensitive Ichigo was and how  _he_  was the first to ever pleasure the boy like this.

Then, slowly, carefully, Grimmjow resumed his southward journey, letting his tongue travel along Ichigo's smooth skin, savoring the fresh fragrance from the boy's body shampoo. He blew softly on the slick trail he left behind - enjoying the soft moan that was issued from Ichigo's mouth - and continued down, down, down until he came to the light, neatly trimmed tangerine trail that disappeared into the teen's boxers. He took the waistband of the garment between his teeth and - along with his hands and some help from Ichigo - tugged it down, past the boy's hips and thighs until it was finally flung carelessly to the floor.

The whole time, he avoided the straining length between Ichigo's legs, his hands and mouth touching everywhere but there. After a while, Ichigo's impatience began to show; the teen's fingers snaking into Grimmjow's hair and digging into his scalp, tugging on the blue strands and urging for more contact. Grimmjow let the boy stew, ignoring the silent pleas, and focused instead on caressing Ichigo's inner thighs, rubbing small sensual circles and peppering open-mouth kisses on the pale skin. The teen's thigh muscles flexed and trembled and bumped into Grimmjow's arms until he finally took pity on the boy.

Ichigo's groan came out almost as a sob when Grimmjow dragged his tongue along the underside of his cock, starting from the base  _slowly_ up to the leaking tip. There, he lingered, laving and kissing the especially sensitive spot until Ichigo's breaths quickened almost to the point of hyperventilating. Grimmjow drank in the near-frantic mewls and cries tumbling from the boy's mouth, the sounds shooting straight to his already-throbbing arousal and making his own pants heavier. Like Ichigo, his patience was quickly slipping, but knowing that this was the teen's first time made him extra cautious. It was beginning to prove to be near-impossible task, though, from the way Ichigo was writhing beneath him and tugging forcefully on his hair and moaning his pleasure so wantonly.

"Please!" Ichigo cried out through clenched teeth, his legs squeezing around Grimmjow's shoulders as Grimmjow took him in inch by agonizing inch until the head nudged the back of Grimmjow's throat.

From then on, it was a fight between Grimmjow's hands and Ichigo's hips; the boy bucking his hips uncontrollably as Grimmjow struggled to hold him down. Then, right as Grimmjow felt the first signs of Ichigo's impending climax, he pressed a finger - slick with his own saliva - slowly into the teen's entrance. Lost in his mind-numbing release, Ichigo hardly reacted to the intrusion, and it wasn't until Grimmjow had three digits buried in the snug, velvety passage that he let out a hiss of discomfort.

"G-grimm..." the boy whimpered in a strained voice, his nails clawing on Grimmjow's arms in a confused pattern, as though he was torn between pushing the man away and urging him to go faster.

"Almost there," Grimmjow gritted out, his breathing labored from the effort to reign in his own need. He kept his hands busy; one stroking and the other stretching Ichigo until he deemed the boy ready to be taken. And then, finally, as Ichigo's arousal re-awakened, Grimmjow pushed the teen's knees up and further apart and reached for the packet that had been tossed aside earlier.

It took all of Grimmjow's will power not to plunge all the way into the beckoning heat as he felt Ichigo yield to him, the walls hugging him,  _squeezing_  him as he sank in slowly. His eyes slid closed as he rolled his hips, keeping his thrusts shallow to let Ichigo get used to the new sensation. The lubricated condom helped, but Grimmjow wanted to be absolutely certain that Ichigo's first time was memorable - in a good way.

Grimmjow's hand left Ichigo's hip to rest next to the boy's head. "You okay?" he murmured as he bent down to nuzzle Ichigo's hair.

Ichigo nodded and arched his neck to bring their mouths together, his features scrunched into a grimace. Yet, at the same time, he was rocking back to meet Grimmjow's hips, allowing Grimmjow to slip in deeper and deeper with each thrust. Rotating his pelvis slightly, Grimmjow searched for the right angle, the one he knew would make Ichigo forget his discomfort entirely.

Grimmjow's reward came in the form of a loud wail that was quickly silenced by his lips, lest the others came running to see who got murdered. Ichigo jerked and bucked his hips, his muffled curses and spasming muscles wringing a moan from the depths of Grimmjow's chest. Finally daring to unleash his full strength, Grimmjow sped up, burying himself again and again in Ichigo's snug, welcoming body without mercy. As coiling heat built in his stomach, Grimmjow wrapped his hand around Ichigo's weeping arousal and pumped, matching the tempo of his hips. Warmth bloomed in his cheeks and chest as he pulled back and watched Ichigo's face contort into one of bliss; the sight more beautiful than anything he could've ever imagined.

There was just one thing missing.

"Say...say my name," Grimmjow commanded - no,  _pleaded_ \- breathlessly as he felt himself edging closer and closer to the inevitable end.

Eyes fluttering open - the dark pools of molten chocolate locking onto Grimmjow's glacial blue ones - Ichigo complied without hesitation; Grimmjow's name tumbling from his lips in shuddering moans. The mere sound of his own name uttered like that was enough to rip an orgasm from Grimmjow, but he held back with gritted teeth, desperate to bring his lover to completion before he toppled over himself.

He didn't have to wait for long. As Grimmjow delivered another volley of powerful, well-aimed thrusts, Ichigo threw his head back and let out a strangled sob; his thighs clamping tightly around Grimmjow's waist and trapping their sweat-slicked bodies flush against each other as his pleasure crested for the second time that night. Grimmjow managed to cling on to precipice of his own climax only for a few moments more before spilling himself inside his young lover's tight, spasming passage. He gasped, completely spent and out of breath, and collapsed onto his elbows, his body barely an inch away from crushing the teen lying beneath him.

" _God_...oh god...that was..." Ichigo panted, still clinging on to Grimmjow's upper arm as though to anchor himself.

Grimmjow barked out a laugh. "I'm  _pretty_  sure you're thanking the wrong guy," he said teasingly before quickly ducking to avoid a half-hearted swat to the side of his head. Then, in a more tender gesture, he rested his forehead on Ichigo's bangs and placed a chaste peck on the boy's nose.

For the longest time they lay there - chest heaving, foreheads pressed together - before Grimmjow finally extracted himself gingerly from Ichigo. He rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed to remove the soiled condom, then he lay back down and gathered the boy into his arms. Ichigo was already half-asleep, his eyelids heavy even as his cheeks were still tinted a delicate pink.

Fully sated and feeling better than he could ever remember, Grimmjow tightened his hold around his lover possessively and let his body relax.

The dream, disturbing as it was, dissolved into oblivion as he was pulled into the comforting embrace of slumber.

* * *

Kisuke stared at the black and white image displayed on the computer screen. The photo looked old, and without the aid of color, he couldn't truly identify the man's most startling feature. The face in the photo was a tad more rounded, the features boyish, yet, the piercing gaze from those large intelligent eyes was unmistakable.

"Ulquiorra Cifer, age twenty six when he went missing," Ishida recited in a cool monotone. "They never recovered his body, though, so the assumption is that he was blasted into bits so small that-"

"I think I get the gist of it, thank you," Kisuke interjected dryly as he massaged his temples.

"Just saying."

Drumming his fingertips on the desk, Kisuke nearly jumped out of his seat when a pair of slender hands landed on his shoulders and proceeded to knead his tired muscles.

"Are you sure we have the right man?" Juushirou asked thoughtfully as he, too, leaned closer to the computer to study the grainy image of Ulquiorra Cifer, which was taken straight from his military profile that had been untouched for years.

"It's the closest match we've found so far," Ishida replied. Then, after a pause, he added carefully, "Perhaps if a certain someone were to exercise his... _position_ , it would be more-"

Kisuke's answer came swiftly and without hesitation. "No. End of discussion."

A weary sigh came from the other end of the phone. "Well, then, do you at least...suspect that this might have anything to do with  _that_?"

"Hah!" Kisuke snorted with a shake of his head. "I daresay the team would not accept anyone who looks as flashy as these people. I would've  _never_..." Realizing suddenly that he was slipping into dreaded territory, he added with a note of finality, "The point is, I'm a retired man and I want nothing to do with the agency. I can only count on you and Szayel."

Ishida chuckled. "Well, I suppose I should be grateful that you have such high confidence in us, Urahara," he said. Then, as the rapid-fire sounds of a computer keyboard began on his end of the line, "I will keep you posted. Till then, have a good day, gentlemen."

"Goodbye, Ishida," Kisuke muttered, his eyes once again glued to the face of the man who had, supposedly, perished during a brutal and unexpected attack four years ago. "And...thank you."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Ichigo was awakened by the soft, rumbling sound of snoring by his ear. He blinked groggily, his mind telling him that something monumental had happened although he was still too sleepy to fully comprehend what it could be.

Then he tried to stretch.

All at once, he remembered everything. His skin tingled as he recalled the new sensations, the raw, intense pleasure that had sent his head spinning last night. Heat immediately bloomed across his cheeks like wild fire.

It was then he realized that he was still completely naked, and upon peeking over his shoulder, noticed that Grimmjow was equaly bare, save for the thin blanket that was tangled around his legs. The older man was sleeping on his side, his face pressed close to Ichigo's body but not quite touching. Pink, enticing lips were slightly parted as Grimmjow continued to snore, completely oblivious to his audience.

Ichigo's heartbeat began to race. The longer he stared at his... _lover_  - god that sounded so weird yet  _so_   _good_  at the same time - the more he yearned to touch him; to thread his fingers through those sleep-mussed baby blue locks, to caress the tanned, scar-ridden skin that did nothing to hide the firm muscles underneath. He pictured that body moving above him, Grimmjow's larger frame enveloping him as they made love...Ichigo's stomach fluttered at the memory.

And then he remembered the dream. Grimmjow had sounded anguished; devastated, even. The hoarse - though brief - cry was so heartbreaking that Ichigo wished he could fix it, but he knew it was beyond his reach. Whatever it was, it was locked inside Grimmjow's mind, inaccessible even by the man himself. Ichigo would be lying if he said he wasn't worried, though he would never admit it aloud - not to himself, not to Grimmjow, and especially not to his uncle.

Pushing aside the depressing thought, he turned back to study his sleeping companion once more. Even with his mouth open and probably drooling into the pillow, Grimmjow was a gorgeous sight; his angular features slightly softer in sleep, one hand tucked beneath his head, broad pectorals rising and falling steadily with each breath. Ichigo stared, unable to tear his eyes away, until, suddenly, he realized that the bright blue eyes were  _open_  and staring back at him with a hint of amusement.

"Morning," Grimmjow rasped, his lips curling into a lazy smirk.

Ichigo felt his blush deepen, feeling quite mortified that he had been caught red-handed acting like a creepy stalker. "Good morning," he said sheepishly.

"C'mere," Grimmjow beckoned with a crook of his finger, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his smile widened.

Ichigo complied and laid back down next to the older man, allowing himself to be pulled into a hug. His eyes slid closed as a heated pair of lips descended on his possessively. The kiss was slow, surprisingly gentle but no less passionate. Ichigo raked his fingers through Grimmjow's hair and tugged lightly to bring the man closer, their legs gradually entwining as their hands explored each other languidly.

One thing led to another, and within minutes, Ichigo was moaning and gasping in Grimmjow's arms, his body shaking as he spilled his release into Grimmjow's fist. Not two seconds later, Grimmjow followed suit, his groan muffled by Ichigo's hair.

They lazed around for a while afterwards, both too sated and comfortable to get down from the bed and start the day. But alas, Ichigo knew he didn't have the luxury of sleeping in for much longer. He would rather not have his door busted open by his uncle, who just might do that if they didn't show up for breakfast soon.

They took turns showering in the tiny adjoining bathroom, knowing all too well what a shared shower would no doubt lead to. By the time Ichigo came out from his shower, Grimmjow had already left the room.

After throwing on a pair of well-worn jeans and a thin V-neck t-shirt, Ichigo padded out of his room to join the older man. Humming happily to himself, he navigated the hallways with ease and headed for the kitchen. Just as he was about to step into the dining room, his ears picked up something that made him freeze in his tracks.

"No luck so far," Grimmjow sounded guarded, his voice a little tighter and flatter than usual.

"I hope you won't mind my prying...but perhaps it's time to try other ways to recall your past? Check out the address on your driver's license, perhaps?"

Ichigo sucked in a deep breath at his uncle's seemingly nonchalant suggestion. The hint - if you could even call it that - was so obvious that his uncle might as well take out a broomstick to sweep Grimmjow out the door.

There was a long pause before Grimmjow replied. "Maybe I should-"

Ichigo didn't think twice before bursting into the room.

"No!"

The two men whirled around; Grimmjow with his lips set in a thin, grim line while Uncle Kisuke blinked at Ichigo innocently as if he didn't just ask Grimmjow to leave.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he growled, looking pointedly at his uncle.

Uncle Kisuke spread his hands and shrugged. "I was merely throwing out some ideas," he said off-handedly.

"You just want him to leave now because you can't accept the fact that I..." Ichigo hesitated as he searched for the right word. "..that I like him," he finished.

"Well I wouldn't quite put it that way..." Uncle Kisuke muttered as he scratched the back of his head absently.

"What's that supposed to mean then!" Ichigo ground out furiously, his temper flaring at his uncle's blatant display of indifference. The man was clearly being passive aggressive, playing the stupid, manipulative mind games that he was notorious for. Ichigo absolutely hated it when his uncle did that. It just made him angrier, even more so now with Grimmjow involved.

"It was just a  _suggestion_ -"

"Suggestion my ass!"

"Ichigo, stop."

Grimmjow didn't raise his voice, but Ichigo fell silent anyway. He glared at Grimmjow, brows twitching from his effort to swallow his words, but the heat in his chest faltered when he looked into the man's eyes. The sharp, ice-blue gaze held a glint of determination that Ichigo didn't like at all.

Sure enough, Grimmjow's next words only confirmed his suspicion.

"I'll leave."

There was a long stretch of silence as those words seemed to hang in the air. He stared at Grimmjow, not bothering to conceal the disbelief and hurt that he was feeling. Next to him, Uncle Kisuke regarded Grimmjow calmly, completely unsurprised, as if he already knew that Grimmjow would do this. Finally, as those words sank in, Ichigo knew what he wanted to do.

"Take me with you," he said.

Grimmjow's jaw muscles flexed. Ichigo knew that Grimmjow wouldn't agree, he could see the "no" etched clearly on the man's features. Still, it stung when the man uttered the words. "You know I can't do that."

"I don't see why not," Ichigo shot back immediately. He hated to sound like a petulant child, but he wasn't going to just let his uncle ruin everything.

Grimmjow let out a sigh and looked pleadingly at Ichigo. "Come on, you're not being rational here."

"He's right," Uncle Kisuke chimed in. "This is personal, Ichigo. He needs to do this by himself." The man turned to Grimmjow and raised his eyebrows. "Don't you?"

Ichigo sucked in a deep breath and kept his eyes trained intently on his lover's face. Grimmjow looked stricken, his lips curled and brows pinched like he had just swallowed a piece of lime. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Ichigo's heart immediately sank.

"Yes, I do," came the strained reply.

Never had Ichigo felt so betrayed. His cheeks turned from flushed to ice cold to flushed again as his stomach churned in a swirl of emotions before settling on one: white hot fury. Grimmjow's face fell.

"Ichigo, let me explain-" he began, stepping forward, arm reaching towards Ichigo as though to grab his arm.

Ichigo refused to give Grimmjow the chance to even  _touch_ him. Somewhere deep, deep down inside, he knew that he  _was_  being irrational, that he was being impulsive and hot-headed, but Grimmjow's answer truly felt like a slap in the face. If he were a lesser character, tears would have fallen, but he wasn't; so he shoved the hand away with a scowl, putting so much force into it that Grimmjow stumbled backwards and crashed into the kitchen counter.

Ichigo felt a fleeting stab of guilt in his chest when he heard the pained grunt, but he forced himself to look dead ahead, back straight and head held high, as he left the dining room. Inside, he hated himself a little more with each step; for acting as if he was throwing a tantrum, like a clingy chick; for feeling so helpless.

But most of all, for being so utterly useless.

* * *

The cheap rubber flip-flops squeaked as Grimmjow stepped into the rain. It had been raining for hours; big, fat droplets that battered the walls and glass windows along with strong, howling winds.

He hadn't seen Ichigo since the rain started. At first, he had assumed that the kid had simply gone back into his bedroom to sulk, but when lunch time passed and Ichigo still didn't shown up, he had risked a peek, only to find that the room was empty. Nobody else had seen the boy, and now, as the sky began to darken and rain clouds continued to loom ominously above, Grimmjow finally decided that it was time to search for him.

He hoped that Ichigo had calmed down by now. He wished the boy would understand how difficult it had been for him to decide on leaving, or had at least had the patience to stay and listen to his explanation. If he was given the choice,  _of course_  he wanted to stay. Urahara had extended his hospitality as a favor, and clearly he had outstayed the welcome. Whether it was simply because Urahara still didn't trust him, or because Urahara knew he was sleeping with his nephew, he didn't know and didn't care. It didn't matter. The fact is that he wasn't going to just stand there and watch a family being ripped apart because of him. If that meant he had to stop seeing Ichigo for a while, so be it.

He swiped his rain-soaked bangs out of his eyes and scanned the surroundings. The ground was muddy and covered in puddles, giving no clue to Ichigo's whereabouts. Grimmjow heaved a sigh and started his search. He began by checking the adjoining gas station - a tiny thing that only had two working pumps. There was nothing there. No teenage boys huddling behind it, no foot prints, no drag marks, no sign of Ichigo at all.

Wiping the water out of his eyes, Grimmjow continued; walking slowly around the shop, poking at the messy piles of junk stacked against to the walls to see if Ichigo was hiding among them. The garage was empty as well, save for the battered pick-up truck and some tools.

Then, finally, when he reached the backyard, he found Ichigo. The normally spiky, vibrant head of orange hair was matted to the boy's scalp, the wet strands a darker hue, almost a shade of copper, as Ichigo sat curled in a ball in front of the wooden shed. The kid had his knees drawn up against his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them, his head buried between his folder arms. He was soaked to the skin, his t-shirt almost transparent as it stuck to his body. Stuffing his hands into his pants pockets, Grimmjow approached the boy carefully.

Ichigo showed no signs of knowing that he was there, but as soon as Grimmjow came to a stop in front of him, the boy lifted his head and glared at him.

"Hey," Grimmjow said quietly. Pulling up his jeans by the waistband, he settled down into a crouch next to Ichigo. He was certain that the boy was going to ignore him, but to his surprise, Ichigo replied with a soft "hey" of his own. The amber gaze that met him held no heat, and he felt a painful tug in his chest when he noted the dullness in the normally bright eyes.

"I'll come back for you," he said. "When everything is straightened out, I'll be back. Just give me some time."

Ichigo's eyes widened slightly before they fell once more. "Will you?" he asked in a tired voice. "What if...what if you find out that you have a family out there? Would you still come back?" He paused to wipe his face with the front of his t-shirt, which did nothing but smear more water onto his face. After a few tries, he finally gave up and let out a dry chuckle. "I sound selfish, don't I?"

"No," Grimmjow replied. He unfolded his legs and sat down, stretching them in front of him and leaning his head back against the wall of the shed. "That's a legitimate concern," he conceded. It was a question he had asked himself before, but had always pushed it back into the back of his mind simply because he didn't have an answer. But now he knew. "I promise I'll come back for you, as soon as I can."

Ichigo sighed. "I don't know if I'll still be here when you come back," he muttered.

Grimmjow felt another pull in his chest as he inwardly acknowledged the possibility. "We'll figure something out when we get there," was all he could say.

Ichigo didn't reply, but after a while he nodded. Grimmjow slipped his arm around the slim, angular shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss onto the boy's hair. He felt Ichigo shiver in his arms.

"Come on, we should head in before you catch a cold," he murmured.

* * *

Over dinner, Grimmjow announced that he was leaving in two days. Juushirou looked surprised while Tessai simply nodded without a word. Ichigo tightened his grip on his fork and lost his appetite completely.

"I wish you luck," Uncle Kisuke said solemnly.

Ichigo suddenly felt nauseous, but he resisted the urge to bolt from the dining table. He had already run away once that day, and he was determined not to do it again. He listened to Grimmjow thanking everyone, but he couldn't get himself to smile back when Grimmjow sent him one.

How could he? He had gone from feeling at the top of the world in the morning to... _this_. He was already doing all he could to keep a straight face as it was, anything more was simply impossible. He caught Juushirou looking at him in concern, but he couldn't bring himself to care, so he simply sat there like a wooden figure, forcing his face to remain neutral and expressionless.

As soon as the dishes were cleared away, Ichigo went back to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed for a while, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten. Two days. Only two more days, then Grimmjow would be gone. Who knew how long it would be before they could meet again? His father had already threatened to personally drag him back home, so he'd be leaving this place soon, too. Would Grimmjow really search for him then?

If only he had acted earlier. If he had summoned his courage and confessed earlier, they would've had more time together. Now, they barely had a  _week_. Was that enough for Grimmjow to come back to?

He was immersed so deeply in his own thoughts that he didn't realize he wasn't alone until a pair of arms snaked around his waist from behind. The mattress dipped as Grimmjow shifted his weight to settle behind him and pull him up against his chest. Letting out a long sigh, Ichigo let his head fall back against the older man's shoulder.

They remained silent the entire time, even when they stripped the clothes off each other and sank into the bed. Not a single word was exchanged as Grimmjow left a trail of hot, wet kisses from Ichigo's earlobe down to his hip bones, around his inner thighs and up the column of his rigid length. The only sounds were soft, muffled moans as they mapped out every inch on the other's body. For once, Ichigo didn't feel shy at all. Time was limited, he didn't want to waste even one precious second by being hesitant. He let his fingers and tongue roam greedily, touching and committing every plane, every curve, and every dip on Grimmjow's body into his memory.

When Grimmjow pressed into him, Ichigo hooked his legs around the man's hips tightly, not willing to let go even when Grimmjow retreated briefly to surge forward again. He didn't want this moment to ever end, but he couldn't stop it; couldn't stop the pleasure from building and building and building until it overflowed out of him, ripping a sob from him as his vision went white for a split second. He clung desperately to Grimmjow, moaning and trembling until he felt a burst of wet heat flood his insides. And even then, he didn't want to let go.

* * *

Moonlight streamed in between the blinds to cast a veil of pale, almost silver light on Ichigo's features, accentuating the tiny hint of a smile on the boy's lips. Grimmjow studied his sleeping lover quietly, resisting the urge to rake his fingers through the soft orange locks.

He was exhausted, but sleep was eluding him. The house was eerily silent except for the steady tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock next to the bed. Without even realizing it, he began to sync his breaths with the sound; breathe in, wait for two ticks, breathe out, then repeat.

He lost track of time for a while - it could've been hours, could've been minutes - before he was suddenly aware of another sound that was disrupting his rhythm: raspy, labored breathing that didn't belong to him.

"Ichigo?" he whispered hesitantly, slowly propping himself up onto his elbow.

The boy was lying on his side facing away from him, body curled under the blanket. Frowning slightly, Grimmjow leaned closer to peek at Ichigo's face. The soft moonlight revealed flushed, sweaty cheeks that were framed by stringy, damp hair.

"Ichigo?" Grimmjow called again, a little louder this time, and shook Ichigo by the shoulder. The boy's body swayed, but showed no signs of waking up.

Beginning to feel alarmed, Grimmjow sat up and rolled Ichigo onto his back. Ichigo murmured something unintelligible, brows furrowed, before his head fell limply to the side.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	11. Chapter 11

"One 'o four," Tessai announced gruffly. The man's thick eyebrows drew together in a worried frown as he regarded the thermometer in his hand.

Grimmjow's heart sank. It had been almost three hours since he nearly broke down the doctor's bedroom door to ask for help. Ichigo was burning up and was not responding except for the occasional moans and groggy murmurs that made no sense. Tessai had immediately administered a dose of intravenous Acetaminophen, yet all it did was to bring the boy's fever down two measly degrees before it shot back up again half an hour ago.

"That was my last dose," Tessai said, wiping his brow as he looked from Urahara to Juushirou to Grimmjow before finally settling his eyes on the unconscious teen on the bed.

Ichigo needed medical attention right away, that much was certain. Grimmjow's chest constricted painfully as he gripped the boy's hand in his own, the overheated skin reminding him that precious time was ticking away. There was only one option left.

"Get him into the truck," Grimmjow said, without bothering to look at the others.

He was expecting Ichigo's uncle to protest, but to his surprise, the blonde simply nodded. Within minutes, they had the barely conscious teenager bundled in the backseat. Urahara slid into the driver's seat while Grimmjow climbed in after Ichigo so that he could hold him steady during their high-speed ride. Unable to all fit into the truck, Juushirou and Tessai remained at the shop.

The ride was tense and silent; the monotonous scenery speeding by in a blur as Urahara pushed the truck to its limit. The automobile squeaked and shook as it raced towards the city, but it held together almost as if it could sense its owner's urgency.

* * *

Kisuke glanced at the rear view mirror, his knuckles white and stiff from his tight grip on the steering wheel. It had been two hours since their departure, and Ichigo's condition had shown little sign of improvement. Tessai's best guess was that the boy had somehow caught something while he was out in the rain, but whatever it was, the most important thing was that they needed to control his body temperature.

"How's he doing?" Kisuke asked.

Grimmjow met his eyes in the mirror. "I think it has gone down a bit," the man replied in a strained voice. "But I still can't get him to wake up."

Kisuke bit his lip and sat up straighter in his seat. He wished they could go faster, but he daren't push the battered old thing any harder. As it was, they would probably arrive at the hospital under two hours, which was already quite the feat.

Another quick peek at the rear view mirror showed Grimmjow wringing cold water out of the towel which they had brought along before dabbing Ichigo's forehead with it. The man's lips were pursed into a thin line, his jaw tight and stiff. Worry rolled off his body in almost visible waves. For a moment, Kisuke felt his resolve waver.

Was he doing the right thing by asking their mysterious guest to leave?

He was only doing what any concerned uncle would do, was he not? It was for Ichigo's protection after all. He had overheard them; knew that the boy was sinking deeper everyday. He had nothing against his nephew taking a lover, but this was someone they knew  _nothing_  about, except for the fact that the man was, technically, dead. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was a mystery and spelled nothing but trouble for his young nephew.

Kisuke sighed inwardly. Who was he kidding? If he were Ichigo, he would've left with Grimmjow months ago, unable to resist the promise of an adventure. He would've followed the man in a quest to uncover his past. After all, it was that very trait of his that prompted him to go into his former profession in the first place. It would seem like a mere twenty years of retirement had turned him into the very kind of meddling old man he once swore he would never become.

Decision made, he cleared his throat. "Stay," he said.

He glanced in the mirror just in time to catch a pair of cerulean eyebrows shoot towards equally blue bangs.

"Stay, I will help you," he continued, knowing that he had Grimmjow's full attention.

There was a long pause before the other man replied. "Why now?"

"Seeing is believing," Kisuke said solemnly.

Grimmjow fell silent as if to ponder the meaning of Kisuke's answer, then, as Kisuke noted that they only had another hour left before they would enter the city, Grimmjow muttered a quiet "thank you".

* * *

"Coccidocci-what?"

Grimmjow stared at the doctor in bafflement, his exhausted mind unable to process the string of scientific jargon that the woman had just said.

" _Coccidioidomycosis_ ," the doctor repeated with a gentle smile on her lips. "Also known as Valley Fever. It's a fungal infection. The source is usually dormant when it's dry, but yesterday's rain must've triggered the release of the spores. Mr. Kurosaki is fortunate that you acted quickly."

"Is it...is it serious?" Grimmjow asked, casting a worried gaze at Ichigo's unmoving form as a nurse draped a thin blanket over the boy's legs.

The doctor shook her head. "I've prescribed Diflucan, an antifungal drug, so he should be fine. Still, just in case there might be any complications, I'd like to keep him here for monitoring, at least till the end of the day."

Grimmjow exchanged a look with Ichigo's uncle and nodded, feeling relieved beyond words that it wasn't something life-threatening. "Sure," he said to the doctor. "Thanks."

As the doctor politely steered them towards the door, the two of them stepped into the hallway, leaving Ichigo in the doctor's good hands. The hospital was bustling with activity even at this early hour, and Grimmjow suddenly felt a sense of foreboding loom over his head. The same feeling of uneasiness at the thought of being in public, in a crowded space, gnawed on him once more, just like it had at the very beginning of his stay at Urahara's home. He glanced left and right, trying to understand what was making him feel this way, but nothing looked out of place.

"Something wrong?"

Grimmjow jumped slightly and shook his head in reply. The last thing he needed was to give Urahara reason to doubt his sanity. "Just tired, that's all," he muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Aren't you?"

"Now that you mention it, yes" the shopkeeper smiled. "Shall we grab some coffee, then?"

They left Urahara's cell phone number at the nurses' station and slowly made their way down to the hospital cafeteria. The ride in the elevator was awkward, to say the least. Now that his worry for Ichigo had ebbed somewhat, all Grimmjow could think of was what the shopkeeper had said to him in the truck.

 _I will help you_.

Grimmjow resisted the urge to snort. What could a middle-aged, eccentric owner of a run-down convenience store possibly do to help him?

* * *

Ichigo came around two hours later, his temperature finally stabilizing. He seemed to be responding well to the antifungal drug, showing none of the possible side effects that might warrant an overnight stay at the hospital. As it was, the doctor announced that he was free to leave by the evening. The best part, however, was the boy's reaction to the news that Grimmjow would be staying. The sight of the wide grin on Ichigo's tired face made the nagging, ominous feeling of danger seem insignificant.

"The old fart has a lot of explaining to do," the boy muttered darkly from his hospital bed, though it was obvious that he was more relieved than angry.

Grimmjow chuckled. "That he does," he agreed as he casted a sideways glance at the older man who was pacing outside, cell phone plastered against one ear as he made lodging arrangements for the three of them.

By the time all the paperwork was done and Ichigo was finally allowed to leave, the sky had turned a gloomy grayish blue; the stormy clouds above promising more rain before the day was over. As they approached the main entrance, it was clear that the wind had already picked up, the trees lining the hospital courtyard tilting precariously to the side under its assault.

"You guys stay here," Grimmjow zipped up his jacket and gestured to the waiting hall. "I'll get the car." Giving Ichigo's hair a fond ruffle and ignoring the resulting scowl, he turned and headed for the exit.

* * *

When the glass sliding doors of the hospital main entrance slid opened, the man with the wavy brown hair lifted his hooded eyes to scan the crowd. He had done this so often in the past few months that it had become second nature. He supposed they could simply use a simple surveillance tool - and they had many - to achieve the same objective, but he much preferred the traditional way. No amount of electronic components could replace the keen eyes of one Coyote Starrk.

Nothing stood out at first as his eyes darted quickly from face to face with calculating, analytical detachment. Then, all of a sudden, he saw it. He straightened up and lowered his sunglasses discreetly, just enough for him to peer over the top of the frame.

There was no question about it. That unmistakable shade of blue could only belong to one person.

Keeping his eyes trained on the back of the blue-haired man, he fished out his phone and dialed.

* * *

Across the street, seated comfortably in a parked car, the man dressed in white smirked as he listened to the line he had tapped into.

"Sexta found, pull up."

There was no response from the other end except for a click before the call was ended abruptly. Chuckling softly to himself, the man in white turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

Grimmjow ran his fingers through the soft orange tuft of hair tucked beneath his chin, ignoring Ichigo's half-hearted command to stop because his hair was "sweaty and gross". Fat droplets of rain splashed against the window, obscuring Grimmjow's view of their dreary surroundings. The hotel they were heading to lay at the outskirts of the city; close enough to the hospital in case they needed to make another trip there, but far enough from the heart of the city to avoid the morning traffic the next day.

Urahara was at the wheel again, navigating the truck through unfamiliar roads with the aid of the GPS on his phone. To Grimmjow's chagrin, the shopkeeper hadn't stopped humming since they left the hospital, so when the man finally fell silent, Grimmjow let out a long suffering sigh of relief. He rolled his eyes at the blonde's reflection in the rear view mirror, but the uncharacteristically somber face that stared back at him made his scowl falter.

As Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow inquiringly, Urahara commented casually, "I don't suppose you recognize the car behind us?"

The question set off Grimmjow's internal alarm bells at once. Sliding lower in his seat, he turned his head slowly to take a peek. He narrowed his eyes and tried to get a better look at the driver, but all he could see was a pair of headlights and the blurry outline of a white car. The car was not close enough and the rain was simply too heavy for him to make out any details. Even so, his heart rate spiked. There could only be one explanation for the shopkeeper's question.

"Since when?" he asked.

The shopkeeper's lips tightened grimly. "I noticed it after we left the pharmacy."

"Shit," Grimmjow muttered under his breath. This couldn't possibly be a coincidence, this  _had_  to be connected to him somehow. They were in danger, he could feel it in his bones. "Turn around-"

A loud " _pop_ " cut him off, and the next thing he knew, he was slammed bodily into the car door. He heard Ichigo yell in surprise before the boy crashed into him head-first as the car swerved to the side of the road suddenly. Urahara swore and grappled with the steering wheel to bring the car back in control.

Amidst the chaos, Grimmjow gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain in his head and turned just in time to see the driver's hand disappear through the window. He ducked down, pulling Ichigo along with him to take cover behind the car seat. "I think he just took out our tire!" he shouted.

"You don't say!" the shopkeeper hollered back. "Hold on!"

The engine revved anew as Urahara stomped on the gas pedal, finally regaining control of the vehicle. Alas, their relief was short-lived. Just as the truck shot forward as though to take off, it jerked to an abrupt stop, nearly sending its passengers barreling face-first into the car fixtures. Then, with one last sickening lurch, the engine sputtered and died. The tense silence that followed was almost too much to bear as Grimmjow stared wide-eyed at Urahara, the only sound being their labored breathing and the pouring rain outside.

They were trapped.

"What the hell is going on?" Ichigo whispered nervously, wincing as he peeled himself off of Grimmjow's body.

Grimmjow shook his head and kept his hand firmly on the boy's arm to keep him hidden from view. He knew what he had to do. There was no other choice. "Whatever you do, _don't move_ ," he hissed, his heart pounding so loud and fast in his chest that he could barely hear himself speak.

Ichigo's eyes widened in realization. "Wait-"

Grimmjow turned to Urahara. "Keep him safe," was all he said before he sucked in a deep breath and opened the door.

The first thing that greeted him was the muzzle of a pistol, aimed directly at his head. The wielder, a tall, slender man with dark brown hair, smiled down at him. Blocking the door with his body, still seated, Grimmjow studied their mysterious enemy warily. For someone who was becoming soaked in the rain, the man still managed to look oddly regal.

"Step out," the man said, his voice deep and buttery smooth. His tone was calm, almost polite, as though he was merely bidding them good morning.

Grimmjow climbed out of the car and straightened to his full height, but before he could close the door behind him, the man spoke again.

" _All_  of you.  _Now_. I can't promise I'll only hit the tires next time."

Without a weapon of his own and having a gun right in his face, Grimmjow had no choice but to comply. He bit back a snarl and stepped aside to let Ichigo slide out. The soft crunching of gravel told him that Urahara had also exited the truck.

"What do you want?" Grimmjow spat, narrowing his eyes at the stranger.

A look of confusion flashed across the man's face for a split second. It was brief, hardly noticeable, but Grimmjow caught it anyway. His breath hitched.  _He was supposed to know this man._

"Oh my." The stranger regarded Grimmjow with a look of amusement. "This is precious...you don't recognize me, do you?"

Grimmjow kept his mouth shut and his eyes focused on the gun in the man's glove-clad hand, resisting the urge to throw all caution in the wind and simply tackle the bastard to the ground, gun be damned. But he wasn't alone, he couldn't risk it. He wasn't stupid enough to think that this man would let Ichigo and Urahara walk free just like that.

The man's eerily serene smile widened. "I was wondering why you didn't come after me," he said, clicking his tongue. With a soft chuckle, the man brought his free hand to his mouth and removed his glove with his teeth, then he extended his arm towards Grimmjow, showing him the back of his hand. "Here, allow me to refresh your memory."

There, spanning across the webbing between the man's thumb and forefinger and over the knuckle, was a scar, shaped exactly like a ring of teeth.

"Remember this, Jaegerjaques?"

* * *

_He was running._

_Running._

_Running._

_There were footsteps behind him. Someone was yelling his name. He ignored them. He had to run faster, even if deep down inside, he knew it was too late. He was too slow, too far away, but he ran anyway. He had to reach him._

_As soon as he rounded the corner of the street, he skidded to a halt. There were people gathered in front of his apartment building._ Lots _of people. Reporters, curious neighbors. He heart dropped to his feet. There were two fire trucks parked at the side of the street. Three police cars. An ambulance._

_He shoved through the crowd, thrusting his badge blindly into people's faces when they turned to glare at him. The officer guarding the main entrance tried to stop him but quickly stepped aside as soon as he saw the gleaming badge._

_He ran up all the way, all six floors, his breath becoming increasingly ragged as he pushed himself forward._ Maybe _, maybe there was a chance it wasn't true. He_ prayed _it wasn't._

 _The sight that greeted him was like a physical punch right in his gut. He had seen all kinds of things in his career, but he could never be prepared for this._ Nobody _could ever be prepared for this._

_There, one arm tied to the headboard of their bed, was Ilforte, naked save for a pair of boxers that was pooled around his smooth, pale thighs. The long blond locks that he loved so much were spread around Ilforte's head like a gruesome halo, the ends drenched in bright crimson. The slender neck, which still bore several faint marks that he'd left just one night ago, was completely covered in blood. Slit. His throat was slit, the cut so deep and long that it guaranteed death the moment it was inflicted._

_The footsteps finally stopped behind him. "Shit," a voice murmured._

_With a strangled sob, he fell onto his knees, his entire world crashing down all around him._

_Half an hour later, he listened numbly as the medical examiner told him how Ilforte had fought back against his assailant. Despite his state of undress, he had not been violated. The medical examiner speculated that the attacker had intended to, but abandoned it when Ilforte bit him. Judging from the blood and tissue that they found on Ilforte's teeth, it was a substantial wound. Unfortunately, it was also one that led to Ilforte's death._

_Or so the medical examiner said, but Grimmjow knew better. There was no chance the assailant would let Ilforte live even if he did get his way. That wasn't his style. He would want Grimmjow's suffering to be absolute. He would want to crush him, destroy him completely until there was nothing left._

* * *

Ichigo took a step back instinctively. He had never seen Grimmjow like this. The crystalline blue eyes held none of its usual hypnotizing beauty, only burning, seething fury and hatred that struck fear in Ichigo's heart. He watched, shocked and oblivious to the wet, bitter cold, as the older man balled his hands into fists and growled.

"Aizen Sousuke."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	12. Chapter 12

He could see everything clear as day, the past replaying in his mind as though it had just happened. Ilforte's gruesome death, the pain and despair that had consumed him afterwards, the anger...he didn't even have the time to process the fact that he was  _remembering_. All he could think of was that he wanted to kill the man standing in front of him. He wanted to feel the man's life ebb away in his hands. He wanted to see the light dim in the man's eyes.

Grimmjow had never wanted to end someone's life as badly like he did now.

Within a heartbeat, he knew what he needed to do. Ignoring the shocked expression on Ichigo's face, he dove for the boy, knocking him off his feet and onto the wet ground. Before Ichigo had the time to protest, Grimmjow went for Urahara next, pulling the older man down and away from the line of fire.

It felt like ages, but in reality, everything happened in a blink of an eye. Knowing full well that his only ally was the element of surprise, Grimmjow bared his teeth and threw himself at the enemy.

A shot rang out, the sound so close and loud that Grimmjow's ears immediately went numb. For a moment, it was as though everything slowed down to a crawl. He saw the snarl on Aizen's face, the look of shock and fury on the man's features, even the recoil from the gun in the white-knuckled grip. Through it all, there was nothing but silence, and then...the pain hit home. A strangled gasp spilled from Grimmjow's lips; the searing heat on his right bicep too great, too sudden, for him to hold it back.

"Grimm!"

He turned, his wound forgotten, to see Ichigo scrambling to get up, one arm reaching out to him. He wished he could take away the expression of horror and concern from the boy's face, but he couldn't turn his back on the threat.

"Don't worry about us!" Urahara yelled, suddenly appearing behind his nephew and grabbing the boy by the arm. "I'll take care of him!"

Grimmjow hesitated, torn between trusting the shopkeeper and defending them from Aizen. For that split second, he saw a gleam in Urahara's eyes, one of fierce confidence that he had never seen on the blonde before. Something told him that he could believe the man.

Gritting his teeth through the pain, he tackled Aizen, who was just beginning to recover from his surprise. Their bodies collided in a tangle of limbs, Grimmjow's fist wound tightly in Aizen's shirt as he pushed the man to the soggy ground. He landed heavily on top of the brunette, grunting as the movement sent a jolt of pain through his injured arm. That distraction was enough for Aizen to turn the tables. Still clutching his gun, the man slammed the weapon into Grimmjow's temple, immediately throwing Grimmjow off of him.

Grimmjow landed hard, sharp rocks scraping his hands and face as he rolled a few feet away. Coughing and shaking his head to clear it, he pushed himself onto his palms and knees. Looking up through blurry vision, Grimmjow saw his enemy stagger to his feet, gun in hand. Panic immediately seized him, sending a fresh wave of nausea through his chest.

 _Ichigo_.

The image of Ilforte lying stiff and bloodied on their bed assaulted his mind unbidden. He wasn't going to let the same thing happen again. Cursing under his breath, Grimmjow stood up shakily. His eyes looked past Aizen's back, the impulse to attack the man again temporarily triumphed by the desperate need to go to Ichigo. But, to his surprise, the ground was empty. There were patches of disturbed soil, but the boy and his uncle were nowhere to be seen.

"Your friends sure are a sneaky bunch," Aizen said casually, looking for all the world like he was simply making idle conversation. He dusted himself with one hand, the other already training the gun on Grimmjow once more. His clothes were muddied from their brief struggle, but he seemed not to notice.

Grimmjow fought to remain calm, sucking in deep breaths as slowly as he could, only vaguely aware of the burning ache on his arm. He couldn't afford to let Aizen see the panic swirling in his chest. He knew exactly what Aizen would do.

"So which is it?" the brunette cocked his head and smiled. "The boy, or the blonde?"

A growl left Grimmjow's mouth before he could stop himself. His head throbbed painfully in sync with his rapid heart beat, and he had to swallow a few more times to stave off the urge to throw up.

"I want to say the boy...but forgive me for being blunt, isn't he a little too young? Never knew you had a thing for fresh meat," Aizen continued his monologue with a hint of amusement. "Not quite as pretty as Granz but I suppose he's more...innocent." He paused, then smiled again. "The blonde, on the other hand...too old for you I think. Not your type."

Grimmjow seethed inwardly. The bastard was the cockiest man on earth, always thinking that he was superior, that he could never fail, never get caught. It was almost the truth; he had evaded them for years, taunted them, tried to intimidate them by acting as though he knew them personally.

Grimmjow's team had spent a long time monitoring the man's immense drug empire before they finally captured him. They'd had enough evidence to send him to jail to rot for a thousand lifetimes, but they had underestimated just how much Aizen's power had infiltrated their ranks. The man was free within hours of his capture, before he had even arrived at his holding cell.

Grimmjow would never forget the phone call he got that day. He had been in the middle of a meeting, his team being commended for the breaking the case, still unaware of the car "accident" that had killed four agents and allowed Aizen to escape. Grimmjow had zoned out in favor of planning the vacation to the Bahamas that Ilforte had wanted since forever, something he had promised to do after this case was wrapped up.

Then, his phone had rung. When he heard Aizen's voice on the other end, he had truly thought that it was a bad joke...until he heard Ilforte's pained scream.

And now, this very man, this monster who had taken everything from him, was here, threatening to do the same again.

"Look at you," Aizen said mockingly. "Nostrils flaring, eyes unfocused...you're so easy to read. Are you forgetting that you have a gun in your face? Or do you not care anymore? Your life ended when your pretty little blonde lover died, didn't it?"

"You sure talk a lot," Grimmjow sneered. "You just love the sound of your own voice, huh?"

The insult merely rolled off Aizen's back. "Let's see how tough you are when I find your friends," the criminal laughed, beginning to stroll slowly towards the car.

Grimmjow's heart leapt into his throat. They must be there, there was nowhere else for them to hide. He took a step forward, eyes focused on the weapon trained firmly on him. Aizen's lips curled into a cruel smile, apparently confident enough not to see Grimmjow's approach as an immediate threat.

"I'm going to count to three," the brunette said cooly.

The ground in front of Grimmjow's feet exploded suddenly, spraying him with shreds of pebbles and mud. He stiffened, blood pounding in his ears and heart hammering away as he realized belatedly how close that had been.

"I don't think I have to explain what will happen after three..." Aizen finished.

For a moment, nothing happened, then came the crunching of gravel before Urahara stood up from the other side of the truck and walked around it towards Aizen, hands held high in the universal sign of surrender. Grimmjow groaned when another figure followed, the boy's rain-soaked tangerine locks matted to his scalp. Their eyes locked briefly, confusion and questions evident in the teen's gaze.

Time slowed down then, the slight narrowing of Aizen's eyes the only warning before the man pulled the trigger.

* * *

Shoved aside abruptly by his uncle, Ichigo hit the ground hard, barely able to break his fall with his elbows. A sharp burst of pain shot up his arms as his skin tore, but he quickly rolled onto his back, eyes wide with shock and terror as he watched his nightmare unfold in front of his eyes.

His blood ran cold as the dark-haired assailant approached him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Uncle Kisuke groaned groggily next to him, where the man had landed heavily when he'd thrown himself over Ichigo. Ichigo couldn't tell if his uncle was injured, but he hardly had the time to worry about that now. They were unarmed, and this man was coming towards them, deadly metal gleaming in one hand.

Limbs heavy from fatigue and barely-recovered fever, Ichigo did the only thing he could think of. It was a dirty trick, but he couldn't bring himself to care at that moment. His fingers dug into the wet soil around him, the heels of his sneakers scraping the ground as he backpedaled on his butt. As their nameless enemy loomed close with a cold smile on his face, Ichigo closed his fist around as much dirt as he could gather and threw it in the man's face.

The brunette cried out and raised his arms to block the offensive cloud of dust and fine, moist sand, his foot steps halted just enough for Uncle Kisuke to recover and launch himself at the man's legs. The man went down with a loud grunt, his gun skidding across the uneven ground to come to a stop beneath the truck.

Blinking in surprise, Ichigo watched his uncle grapple with the assailant, the blonde surprisingly agile and strong as he staddled the other man. For a moment, it looked as though his uncle was about to knock him out, but the dark-haired male fought back suddenly, shoving a bony knee straight into Uncle Kisuke's stomach. The shopkeeper doubled over, air leaving his lungs audibly, and was flung off easily as their enemy dove for the truck.

By the time Ichigo realized what the man was after, he was a second too late. There was a deafening bang, then Ichigo watched, his body frozen in horror, as his uncle collapsed.

* * *

Everything had happened so quickly. One second Aizen had had his gun on him, and the next, the bastard had fired it in Ichigo's direction. Grimmjow stiffened, mind suddenly blank as the image of Ilforte flashed in front of his eyes. He desperately wanted to rush to Ichigo, but it was as though his limbs were stuck. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and was on the brink of falling onto his knees when he was suddenly greeted by the scene of Urahara and Aizen on the ground.

Grimmjow recognized some of the moves, knew how difficult they were, yet there he was, Urahara Kisuke the shopkeeper, pulling them off flawlessly on one of the most dangerous, most powerful criminal in the world.

The sight snapped his attention back to the present, and he dropped into a fighting stance, muscles tensing, preparing to jump in to join the fight. It was almost impossible to find an opening, he didn't want to interrupt at the wrong moment and get in Urahara's way.

By the time he finally saw one, it was too late. Grimmjow could only watch as the blonde's body jerked violently before the man went down...and remained still, face-down on the ground unmoving. Grimmjow couldn't see how bad it was, whether Ichigo's uncle was dead.

An anguished scream spurred him into action. He didn't have time to check on Urahara now. Teeth bared and nearly snarling like a wild animal, Grimmjow sprung. Aizen was just picking himself up from the ground, features contorted into one of arrogance and disgust. He raised his arm, but before he could pull the trigger, Grimmjow descended upon him.

* * *

Ichigo scrambled around the truck towards his uncle, blood roaring in his ears as his eyes darted between the man's prone form and the struggle that was going on not far away from him. Grimmjow was wrestling with the assailant, angry grunts escaping from him as he fought for the weapon.

Ichigo realized that it was stupid to put himself in the line of fire, but he couldn't possibly leave his uncle like that. Ignoring the warning bells in his head, Ichigo dropped to his knees and grabbed his uncle by the shoulder.

One quick glance confirmed his fear. His uncle had been shot in the chest. Ichigo placed two shaking fingers on his uncle's neck, searching desperately for a pulse. He couldn't find one. His fingers were slippery from sweat and trembling so hard that he simply couldn't hold it in place. His breath hitched in his throat. No...not his uncle...

He was so lost in his panic that he didn't even notice that the gun had gone off again until his ears started ringing. The silence that followed was deafening. It was as though the air itself had stood still. Nothing moved, even the rain ceased.

Ichigo turned his head stiffly and stared, his limbs ice cold, at the other two men who now laid in a crumpled heap. The assailant was sprawled on top of Grimmjow, head turned to the other side, his dark brown, wavy hair obscuring Grimmjow's face from view.

Ichigo waited with a baited breath, willing Grimmjow to move.

_Come on, push him off, get up!_

Then, he saw it: an ominous pool of bright crimson, spreading...under Grimmjow. It grew, seeping into the moist earth, expanding slowly but surely.

"No," Ichigo said out loud, his voice flat, exhausted. He couldn't believe this was happening. Grimmjow wasn't moving. Why wasn't he moving?

A hoarse groan broke the silence suddenly, and Ichigo froze.

For a moment it looked as though Grimmjow had shifted...but no, it wasn't him. It was the attacker, pushing himself up shakily, arms braced against Grimmjow's body for leverage. The man coughed, wheezing, as he untangled his limbs. He shook his head groggily, body swaying slightly, and sat up.

"No," Ichigo repeated numbly.

At his voice, the other man turned. His eyes were glazed over in pain, left eye swollen, lips cut in multiple places, nose bleeding. But when his gaze settled on Ichigo, his battered face broke into a grin.

Ichigo fell back onto his butt, his arms and legs refusing to support his weight any longer. He searched wildly around him for something to defend himself with; a rock, a stick, _anything_.

There was nothing.

The deadly nuzzle of a gun appeared in front of his face, aimed directly between his eyes. He stared at it, heart hammering in his chest but suddenly devoid of any fear. He felt oddly detached, numb, so he simply remained expressionless as his would-be executioner widened his smile. Ichigo fought back the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. No, he wouldn't go down looking so defeated even if the end was inevitable.

The finger on the trigger flexed.

Something zinged by above Ichigo's head. His eyes widened in disbelief as the brunette stiffened, gun arm still extended. A trickle of blood slid down the bridge of the man's nose, flowing from a small wound on his forehead that Ichigo hadn't noticed at first. Then, as though he was a manequinne whose string was abruptly cut, the man dropped heavily to the ground.

_How...?_

Ichigo gaped at the lifeless body, too stunned to do much else other than blink dumbly at it. Then everything rushed back to him - his uncle, Grimmjow. Both lying just as still, both... _gone_.

 _Grimmjow_.

As his vision darkened and his last threads of consciousness slipped through his fingers, Ichigo thought he saw a thin, impossibly tall figure approach. But he must be hallucinating - surely no human being could be  _that_  tall - or perhaps he was already dead and that was the Grim Reaper coming to collect his soul.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	13. Chapter 13

Body shivering from cold and exhaustion, Ichigo rested his forehead against the window, his knees drawn up to his chest as he sat in a tiny corner of the hospital waiting room. Rain drops continued to splatter against the glass on the outside, but the soothing sound was lost on him. He wished it would stop. He wanted to be able to open his eyes and see bright, cheerful sunlight instead of this grey, lifeless sky above him. He wanted someone to tell him that he had simply fallen asleep on the way back from the hospital and that everything had been a dream.

But of course nobody could tell him that. The sickening smell of antiseptic and soft, clipped chatter around him reminded him that everything was very much  _real_.

He was alive. Shaken and scraped-up but alive while doctors desperately worked to save the others.

His uncle.

 _Grimmjow_.

Ichigo closed his eyes and bit down on his lower lip to stop it from quivering. He supposed he should be thankful that the doctors at least had  _something_  to work on. The image of the brunette's still form on the ground flashed in front of his eyes unbidden. That could've been them. He had  _thought_  that they were gone too.

"Here."

A steaming mug was thrust in front of Ichigo's face, and he looked up into an open, friendly face.

"Thanks," Ichigo mumbled, reaching up to accept it. He brought the mug to his chest, more for the warmth than anything else, and blew on it absently. The hot chocolate smelled rich and creamy, but he had no appetite for it. For anything.

The redhead who handed him the beverage sat down next to him and leaned back against the window pane. Ichigo didn't want him there, but he was too tired to ask him to leave, so he just let the man be. He knew the guy was just trying to be nice.

They'd all been alright so far. The tall one with the eyepatch - the one Ichigo had mistaken for the Grim Reaper in his half-conscious state - kept looking at Ichigo like he wanted to say something, but every time he opened his mouth, the green-eyed one would shut him up with an elbow in the gut.

"We're Grimmjow's friends," Green-Eye had said. "We're here to help."

Why couldn't they have come sooner?

Ichigo breathed out a sigh and closed his eyes. He was so confused. Who were they - or rather,  _what_  were they? Who was the mystery man who wanted to kill them? More importantly,  _why_? Nothing made sense, yet Ichigo was too worn out, too numb, to ask.

"He's a tough bastard," the redhead said suddenly.

Ichigo blinked and stared blankly at the man. He'd never seen anyone with so many tattoos before.

"Grimmjow, I mean," the man added, mistaking Ichigo's silence for confusion.

"I know," Ichigo muttered. He looked away, not wanting to mislead the redhead into thinking that he wanted to talk.

Unfortunately, either the man was too thick to get the hint, or he simply ignored it. "I've known him for years," he went on, much to Ichigo's dismay. "He always bounces back. It's like the fucker has nine lives or something."

Ichigo grunted and stared pointedly out of the window.

"Leave the kid alone," another voice drawled. It was the sleepy-looking guy, Starrk. Ichigo remembered his name because he had been the one who scooped Grimmjow up from the ground. The front of Starrk's shirt was muddied and smeared with blood, but he seemed oblivious to it.

Despite himself, Ichigo turned and said in a tired voice, "It's okay."

Starrk gave the redhead a kick in the shin, shooing the younger man out of the way before settling down beside Ichigo himself.

"Renji's right, though," Starrk said good-naturedly. "Grimmjow's strong, he has seen worse."

Ichigo couldn't hold it in anymore. "Just... _what_  do you guys  _do_?" he demanded, frowning.

Starrk's lips quirked into a small smile. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but I guess an exception is in order given the circumstances, isn't it?"

Damn right it was. Ichigo sat up straighter and leaned forward, anxious to finally learn the truth about his lover.

"We call ourselves Hollows," Starrk began, crossing his arms over his chest casually. "When the higher ups need to clean up a mess, they call us. When they want somebody to disappear  _discreetly_ , they call us."

Ichigo had to grit his teeth to stop his mouth from falling open. "Like some sort of secret agent?"

Low chuckles rumbled in Starrk's chest. "Quite a bit less glamorous than that I'm afraid," he said ruefully. "We..." He gestured to the others, who were watching the two of them. "We technically do not exist."

Ichigo frowned, not understanding it one bit.

"I, for example, 'died' in a car accident four years ago," Starrk continued in a tone that was way too calm for what he was saying.

"Skiing accident," the redhead chimed in with a lopsided grin.

"Killed in action in a gang war." The tall one pointed to himself, then he lifted the patch that was covering his left eye, showing off a scar that cut horribly across his eyelid.

Green-Eye scoffed but said nothing, showing no interest in sharing his story.

"And Ulquiorra here," Starrk chuckled again. "He got blown to bits so small they couldn't find his body."

Ichigo had to shake his head to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Then, something dawned on him, and his eyes widened. "Grimmjow too?"

"Six years ago," Starrk nodded. "Supposedly died after going after the man who murdered his partner. He was a Special Agent of the DEA at the time."

Ichigo suddenly understood. "That man..."

The silence that followed confirmed his suspicion.

"It was pure luck back then," Starrk went on. "We came across Grimmjow during one of our... _assignments_. We took him in, nursed him back to health."

The tall one let out a crude snort, his lips stretched into an amused smirk. "More like we dragged in his half-dead carcass," he cackled, sounding far too cheerful to Ichigo's liking. "Stupid fucker wanted us to off 'im when he woke up. Blabbered on and on about failing and shit, but H liked him, and he ended up joining us."

"H?" Ichigo echoed. This was beginning to sound more and more bizarre.

Starrk nodded. "Our Chief. He's the one who hand selects the team. Quite the eccentric fellow, but he has our back. In fact, he's on his way here as we speak."

Ichigo could only stare at them all, his eyes wide and mouth agape. This all sounded so... _outrageous_ , yet these people looked absolutely serious. Grimmjow, a secret government agent;  _so_ secret that his existence had to be wiped out just so he could work under the radar of the law. Ichigo felt like he was in a cliched action movie.

And then a realization dawned on him, and his heart sank to the cold, dark pit of his stomach. Now that Grimmjow had his old life back, that would mean...Ichigo closed his eyes and rubbed his face vigorously, suddenly furious at himself. What a childish, selfish thing to think right now. He shouldn't be thinking about this, not when they weren't even sure if Grimmjow would survive the night. Swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat, Ichigo looked away and tried to ignore the looks of sympathy sent his way.

* * *

Starrk glared at Renji for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He could tell that his teammate was  _itching_  to talk to Grimmjow's young friend. Renji tended to be especially talkative when he was restless or stressed, but Ichigo was obviously distressed enough; the last thing he needed was to be pestered by an overly-friendly, obnoxiously loud redhead. Starrk felt bad for the poor kid. The moment the boy's face turned pale, Starrk  _knew_  - Ichigo had just realized what he would have to face when Grimmjow woke up.

There was no doubt in Starrk's mind that Grimmjow would wake up. He  _had_ to. They didn't spend all this time searching for him just to have him die on them before even setting eyes on their long faces. They'd been waiting for this moment, all too eager to give Grimmjow a piece of their minds for running off on his own with his personal agenda. Starrk would think that his blue-haired friend should know by now that they stuck together, through thick and thin. They were already pursuing Aizen anyway, couldn't Grimmjow just trust them that they'd do everything in their power to bring the man down?

But off he'd gone, not caring that he was putting their mission in jeopardy, not caring that the team would be forced to deny his existence should he get into trouble; and now look what happened. Lost memories could be retraced, but a broken heart would never be the same again. Grimmjow had had his crushed a long time ago and was just beginning to learn how to cope; now, another one would be shattered. Starrk sent the kid a worried glance. Ichigo was staring intently out the window, lower lip tucked between his teeth, brows furrowed in a look of concentration. But Starrk knew that the kid's mind was anywhere but here.

He was debating whether he should simply escort Renji out of here when loud, confident footsteps approached. Recognizing them immediately, the group perked up, each unfurling from their resting positions to greet their leader.

"Took yer long 'nuff," Nnoitra grumbled.

Their Chief flashed them a grin, albeit one that was more sombre than his usual freakishly wide ones. "Nice to see you too," the man said, giving Nnoitra a mock salute before nodding curtly to the others.

Next to the window from his little corner, Ichigo looked up curiously, his eyebrows shooting up when he laid eyes on their flamboyant superior. Starrk supposed that was to be expected; after all, Hirako Shinji was not the most conventional-looking man, especially for someone in his position.

* * *

Ichigo didn't know what to make of the man now standing in front of him. He'd never seen anyone in such a bizarre outfit: a checkered skinny tie around a slender neck, decorating the front of a bright orange t-shirt that hugged the man's lean figure snugly, face framed by long, stick-straight blonde hair with a severe, lopsided fringe. It was an ensemble that looked like the result of a joint project between a fashion designer and a mad scientist. While they're high, too.

"So you're, uhh...H." Ichigo shook the man's hand and tried hard not to let his disbelief show.

The blonde man chuckled. "Was that how I was introduced? Tsk," sharp brown eyes rolled in exasperation. "Please, call me Shinji."

Ichigo could only nod dumbly as his fingers were crushed by Shinji's deceptively strong hand.

"Now, who wants to tell me the whole story?"

Ichigo wanted nothing more than to shrink back into his little corner and tune everything out, but he had no choice but to fill the man in. He recounted the day Grimmjow appeared at their doorstep, how they couldn't find any information on him, and finally, what happened during the brief but violent exchange with the brunette assailant.

"That was Aizen Sousuke," Shinji explained as he settled into one of the chairs and swung one leg over the other. "One of the most notorious wanted man by the DEA. Drug Enforcement Agency, if you don't know. Grimmjow was one of their top special agents, until things became personal."

Ichigo swallowed, recalling what Aizen had said and what Starrk had mentioned.

"He went against his Chief's explicit orders not to get involved," Shinji continued with a frown. "He did manage to catch up with Aizen, but the idiot was outnumbered and outgunned, of course. After that, Aizen went under the radar, until a year ago. He popped up all of a sudden, and we were sent to shut him down. The minute I received word of the assignment, I just  _knew_  there was going to be trouble." The blonde sighed. "Sure enough, the next morning, Grimmjow disappeared."

"Stupid fucker left us a fake trail," the tall, black-haired agent growled. "By the time we realized we'd been tricked, we've wasted too much time, and we lost 'im. Took us a while to track him down."

Starrk nodded. "We suspected that something must've happened to him, because he wasn't where Aizen was. We eventually narrowed it down to this area, and we've been keeping watch. In fact, we've even been to your place."

Shinji let out a grunt at that. "If you guys had reported that to me  _right away_ , I could've saved us all this trouble. But  _nooooo_ , you just  _had_  to decide that you were better off on your own," he said with a healthy dose of resentment.

Ichigo would've been amused by the other agents' reaction under different circumstances, but as it was, he simply blinked in confusion as the men blushed and fake-coughed sheepishly. He looked at Shinji, who leaned forward in his seat, playful expression gone. Ichigo's heart began to race, but nothing in the world could possibly prepare him for what the blonde leader said next.

"Our team is one of the most specialized, most classified organization in the world. Not many even know its history, including these idiots here." After glaring at his subordinates, Shinji paused and pinned Ichigo with a serious gaze. "It was founded twenty two years ago by a man who has since become a legend within our ranks. His name, is Urahara Kisuke."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	14. Chapter 14

"His name is wha-?"

Ichigo couldn't contain his shock as he gaped dumbly at the blonde chief. Did he just...how could it be...Uncle Kisuke?  _Impossible!_

"No way," he croaked, suddenly feeling like he'd just swallowed a mouthful of sand.

Shinji simply gave him a somber look. "Your uncle was an outstanding agent, but first and foremost, he was a brilliant scientist. One who was devoted and extremely passionate about his work. He believed that sharing knowledge amongst the top minds in the world, classified or not, is the future, and he formed the team with that goal in mind. Except, the people above were not too fond of the idea. But they let him play along, not willing to alienate their most valuable researcher."

Shinji's eyes hardened.

"And this...is where it becomes fucked up," he continued darkly. "Eventually, your uncle found out why his contacts seemed to have lost interest in their collaboration after a while."

Ichigo gulped, a sense of foreboding rising in his chest.

The blonde agent leaned forward and said, in a calm but seething voice, "You see, they were being wiped out, one by one. Your uncle's research, stolen by his very own superiors, was secretly used to create instruments of war. By the time he realized what was happening, half of his team had already been converted from scientists to assassins. Furious but unable to regain control over his project, he abandoned his life's work and left the agency. The higher-ups had wanted to eliminate him, but his successor put a stop to it."

"You did?" Ichigo asked, wide-eyed.

Shinji shook his head with a smile. "Pfft, no, it wasn't me. I was barely out of college at the time. It was Kyoraku Shunsui, one of Kisuke's closest friends and one of the last of the original research team. They desperately needed someone to hold the organization together, which was on the brink of collapse after your uncle's sudden departure. Shunsui took it over on the condition that the agency would break all ties with Kisuke and stop their pursuit."

"Please tell me they didn't end up murdering this Kyoraku person," Ichigo mumbled.

Shinji snorted and leaned back against the back of his chair. His eyes fleeted over to his subordinates, who were staring at him, all looking nearly as surprised as Ichigo was. "Nah, he retired eight years ago, and I took over," he said, rolling his eyes at the other agents. "By then, he had managed to split it into two divisions. The research team, and then there's these jokers here: operations. It's the best compromise Shunsui could wrangle out of the hard heads above. When Shunsui left, the operations team had just started, and I built it up over the years, one idiot at a time."

"Hey!" The gangly, one-eyed agent protested with a scowl. "How are we supposed to know that this shopkeeper dude is our great-grand-boss if you don't tell us anything?"

"Irresponsible," Green-eye muttered under his breath.

The entire time, Ichigo could only stare blankly from one face to another, his mind reeling from the shocking revelations. His unclewas one of  _them_. Just like Grimmjow. Somehow it was easier to accept the fact that his mysterious lover had such a colorful identity, but his uncle? It just seemed too...surreal.

Starrk patted Ichigo's shoulder soothingly. "I know it's a lot to take in at once, kid."

"Uh huh." Ichigo nodded, not quite recognizing the raspy voice as his own. "So...what do we do now?"

"Now?" The blonde Chief pursed his lips into a thin, grim line. He glanced at the entrance of the waiting room. "Now, we wait."

* * *

Despite his calm exterior, Shinji was fretting inside.

What a day it had been. First, he'd finally heard back from his team, which had suddenly gone MIA in the middle of a mission, only to find out that they'd nearly lost their field leader. It wasn't like the team hadn't gone under the radar for long periods of time before, but this was the longest time yet. Then, imagine his shock when he was given the description of the men who'd gotten tangled in this whole mess.

Urahara Kisuke was easily one of the most mysterious man in history of the agency. Much of the technology that were currently in use by the thousands of agents out in the field had been results from the man's research. Yet, not many people knew of him, because his very existence was classified. A taboo. But to those in the know, the ones who hadn't forgotten their roots, like Shinji, Urahara Kisuke was a legend. To know that he was  _here_ , right in this building, sent chills through Shinji's spine. He felt like a child all over again.

And then there's Jaegerjaques. That man was a cold-blooded killer on a good day. On a bad day, he was a maniac; cruel and merciless. But he wasn't always like that. When he first joined the team, he was an emotional wreck, a man so thoroughly heartbroken that he had no will to live. Then one day, after witnessing the team in action, something finally snapped, and he had been that way since. It was as though he'd suddenly found a new purpose in his life. Shinji wasn't exactly proud of the fact that he was responsible for bringing forth that side in the man, but it was a necessity in his position.

Now, with Aizen's dead and gone, which Jaegerjaques would Shinji find when the man woke up?

Feeling a headache coming on, Shinji sighed and massaged his temples, but his reverie was cut short abruptly when two figures burst into the waiting room; a tall, thin man with flowing white hair and a bulkier one sporting a handlebar mustache. Shinji shot to his feet immediately.

"Juushirou!"

Ichigo practically launched himself at the white-haired man, who caught him in a tight embrace. The anguish on the man's face was clear.

Recognizing the shopkeeper's partner, the other agents straightened up as well. Shinji gave the two of them a few minutes to comfort each other, then he went up to the older man and offered his hand. Juushirou returned the handshake, his grip ice-cold but firm.

"Ichigo called me," Juushirou explained, pinning them all a questioning and determined gaze. "Somebody better tell me what the fuck is going on."

* * *

Ichigo had never heard Juushirou curse in his life. Never, not even when he was angry with his uncle's maddening ways.

The sense of betrayal that Ichigo was battling doubled when he found out that they had kept their suspicions from him, that they'd even known about Grimmjow's mysterious "death" all along. They could've at least warned them! He couldn't help but think that perhaps things wouldn't have ended this way if they had.

"I'm sorry," Juushirou said softly, resting a hand on Ichigo's shoulder.

Ichigo resisted the urge to shrug the hand off. He had all the right in the world to be angry, but honestly what could he do at this point?

Juushirou's hold tightened. "We didn't want to alarm you when we had so little information," he continued. "On hindsight, that was a terrible decision."

This time, Ichigo snorted before he could stop himself. Keeping his eyes trained on the carpet, he mumbled bitterly, "No shit."

They fell silent after that. No words could convey their anxiety. It had been nearly four hours since the surgeries began, and there hadn't been an update since. It was only natural to fear the worst, even though Ichigo refused to voice it out loud. No matter how angry he was at his uncle, worry triumphed it at the moment. He would give Uncle Kisuke a piece of his mind  _after_  this was over.

Even though Ichigo was certain that he wouldn't be able to rest till then, he did doze off eventually. The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by Starrk. He sat up, blurry-eyed and groggy with a headache, then immediately scrambled to his feet when he noticed the doctor at the entrance. What he heard next felt like a punch right in his gut.

"-they lost a lot of blood-"

" _No!"_

Everyone turned to stare at Ichigo, who had stumbled to the front, face pale and eyes wild.

_No, this couldn't be happening._

"No, please-" he choked out, his voice cracking as he felt the world crumble all around him.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Well, as I was saying, they lost a lot of blood, but they'll live."

There was a stretch of silence as Ichigo stood there with his mouth hanging open, a mixture of disbelief and despair frozen on his features. Then, the moment was shattered when the agent with the eye patch scoffed, "Get a grip of yourself, kid."

Ichigo shook his head and was about to yell at the man when Shinji whacked the back of his subordinate's head with a strong swing of his arm.

"Like you're any better, Jiruga!"

And just like that, all the bottled-up tension drained from the waiting room. The men visibly relaxed, even the green-eyed one, who had been mostly expressionless the entire time. Ichigo's knees went weak, and he slumped bonelessly into the nearest chair, not caring when his elbow smashed into the arm rest with a resounding crack.

The next hour crept by like a stream of molasses. They watched the patients being wheeled into the Post Anesthesia Care Unit, but were kept from the room until the nurses had them settled in properly. And then after that, the two men were each only allowed a five-minute visit from one person.

Ichigo looked from one agent to another, his lips set in a firm line that left no discussion as to whom gets the visitation right for Grimmjow. When each of them simply nodded, Ichigo blew out a long breath and stepped into the recovery room with Juushirou. Nearly all the beds were full, but all Ichigo saw was the shock of blue hair that stood out starkly against the crisp white sheets.

Grimmjow looked ghostly pale, his head, abdomen, and bicep swathed in layers of bandage. His face, covered in cuts and bruises, tilted slightly to the side as he slept, and Ichigo couldn't help but reach out to brush his fingers over the older man's cheeks. The doctors were confident that, given his physique, Grimmjow would eventually be back at a hundred percent, but he had a long, long road to recovery ahead of him.

Now that the scare was over, Ichigo could no longer escape from the reality of their situation. His chest ached, not only from the sight of his lover like this, but also from the dreaded reminder of what was going to happen when those eyes open. They were from two completely different worlds, and once Grimmjow woke up, he would return to his world, where Ichigo didn't belongand would  _never_  belong. Letting go would be painful. But there was no other choice, was there?

"Hey," he muttered, even though he knew that Grimmjow wouldn't be able to hear him. He could've waited until Grimmjow regained consciousness before seeing him, but he wanted one last quiet moment alone with the man, even if it was just five minutes.

And that was exactly how Ichigo spent the rest of the precious time - simply sitting next to the bed and watching the peaceful expression on Grimmjow's face, determined to commit every detail to his memory, down to the very last eyelash.

* * *

The first thing that registered in Grimmjow's mind was the sound of rhythmic beeping. At first it seemed distant, and then, as consciousness slowly returned to him, it grew louder, and louder, until he thought his head was going to explode. He winced and let out a groan, wishing he could clamp his ears shut, but his arms felt too heavy, like they were tied down with weights. And then, as the fog in his mind slowly lifted, all the other aches and pains on his body, slightly muted as they were under the painkillers, made themselves known one by one.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

Struggling against his drooping eyelids, Grimmjow cracked an eye open to find a young woman hovering above him. For a moment, he was confused, and then everything rushed back with shocking clarity. Ilforte. Aizen.

 _Ichigo_.

A sudden bout of nausea seized him as he panicked, and he instinctively tried to sit up. Immediately, red hot agony bloomed in his stomach, and he cried out in pain through gritted teeth, eyes watering as he struggled to breathe.

"Take it easy now," the woman said gently as she eased him back onto the hospital cot. "Your friends are safe, so you can relax."

That was the last thing Grimmjow remembered before he slipped under again, his strained body once again overcome by pain and shock. But somewhere in his groggy mind, the nurse's words managed to register, and he allowed himself to pulled into the depths of sleep.

When Grimmjow woke up again, it was to the presence of a doctor next to him. The middle-aged man straightened up and smiled when he felt the penetrating gaze from half-opened blue eyes.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Jaegerjaques?"

It took a handful of swallows before Grimmjow could produce an alarmingly weak croak, "Ichigo."

"Ah, your buddies are doing great." The doctor snapped on his stethoscope. "I'll let them know that you're awake in a minute. Now let me just-"

Feeling a familiar pang of anger, accompanied by rising panic, Grimmjow cut him off hoarsely, "Where are they? I want to see them right fucking now!"

The doctor ignored his outburst and simply held him back as he pressed the stethoscope on Grimmjow's chest. Grimmjow frowned and was about to yell again when a voice piped up cheerfully behind the man.

"Ah, our Sexta is back alright."

Grimmjow's eyes widened in recognition. There was only one person who could sound so ridiculously chirpy under these circumstances. "Chief!" he blurted, straightening up and wincing when his battered body protested the sudden movement.

The blonde agent shot him a grin and stepped into the room. Behind him, a group of men fanned out, revealing one familiar face after another. His teammates, his  _friends -_  people that he'd thought he would never see again.

"Nice to see you too, asshole," Renji greeted, loud-mouthed and loving as usual, just the way Grimmjow remembered him.

Too surprised to do much else, Grimmjow could only sit and listen in stunned silence as his teammates brought him up to speed about the situation. By the end of the briefing, there was only one thing on Grimmjow's mind.

_Aizen was dead._

The man who'd murdered Ilforte, the one who had nearly destroyed him, was  _dead_.

So why was his heart so heavy? His confusion was short-lived, of course. He knew exactly why.

"Ichigo," he whispered, not caring that the word came out sounding like a plea.

For a second, there was only silence, then the men parted, making way for the skinny orange-haired boy now standing at the doorway.

"I'm here."

Ichigo looked unharmed except for some scrape marks on his arms, but amidst the relief etched on the boy's face was a touch of sorrow that Grimmjow wasn't expecting. He looked to Shinji - who simply shrugged - then he looked to his team members - all of which shrugged and glanced knowingly at Ichigo - and then it finally dawned on him. Despite the rock concert that was going on full swing in his head, something clicked in Grimmjow's mind, and he suddenly understood.

So Ichigo knew everything now; about his past, about  _what_  he was. And surely, the boy must've come to a conclusion of what this all meant.

Grimmjow's chest clenched as he looked longingly at his young lover, remembering the intimate moments that they'd shared, the budding feelings that they'd just discovered, the unconditional trust that Ichigo had in him. There was no question what his next step was going to be.

Closing his eyes, Grimmjow blew out a long breath. "So," he said. "I guess this is farewell."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	15. Chapter 15

**Well, this is it. The last chapter of The Stranger. After all those terrible cliffhangers, this is finally drawing to a close. I hope you've all enjoyed the ride so far!**

* * *

Shinji squirmed in his seat, his lower lip tucked between his teeth as he waited to be summoned. He felt like he was going to get a heart attack any time now, and his palms were so clammy that he was leaving wet handprints on his pants as he clutched at the fabric.

"Christ, you need to chill the fuck out," Renji grumbled next to him, becoming irritated with Shinji's nervousness.

"I can't!" Shinji hissed back with a frown. "You don't understand I-"

Renji snorted. "Yeah, yeah, he's your idol, blah blah blah," the redhead drawled. "You say this every fucking time. Get over it, man!"

Right on cue, the door in front of them swung open, revealing a thin, stern-looking woman sporting a tight bun at the nape of her neck.

"Chief Hirako," she said flatly, instantly sending Shinji's heart rate up another few notches. "Chief Urahara will see you now."

Shinji gulped audibly and turned to Renji, who merely rolled his eyes. Then, sucking in a deep breath, Shinji puffed out his chest, mustering as much confidence as he could without turning green in the face, and walked into the office. As always, the sight that greeted him immediately made him feel like a rookie all over again, despite his own much-revered reputation at the agency.

Urahara Kisuke, the self-exiled founder of the organization that Shinji had been calling home for the past decade, was seated at a large mahogany desk. Stacks of paper and miscellaneous stationery covered the desk haphazardly, leaving just enough space for a mug of coffee next to Urahara's hand. His signature walking cane rested against the edge of the desk, a constant reminder of what happened four years ago. Urahara had not come out unscathed from the Aizen incident. His recovery from the gunshot wound had been a long and painful one, but with the support of his devoted partner and good friend, he'd bounced back eventually. The first thing he did when he was well enough to leave the house was to call up his old friend and colleague, Kyoraku Shunsui. Shinji had been there when his superior received the unexpected phone call.

Before Shinji knew it, the legendary scientist was back. Apparently, the close encounter with Aizen had reawakened the man's latent passion for his life's work, enough for him to come out of retirement. And that's how Shinji found himself working side-by-side with his idol; with Shinji continuing his role as the Chief of Operations while Urahara once again led the Research team.

"Hello! Please, have a seat!" Urahara gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, his dirty blond hair badly mussed, as if he'd been pulling on them all day.

Shinji's lips twitched as he slid into one of the chairs, trying hard not to laugh at his colleague's appearance. He whipped out his weekly report and placed it carefully on top of one of the many sheets of barely legible handwritten notes, and thus began another top-secret meeting between the two Chiefs of an organization that didn't exist.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Karakura Town..._

"Take care, Ichi-nii!"

"Try not to die!"

Ichigo waved at his sisters, grinning as they bid him goodbye. His backpack felt heavy on his shoulder, but his heart couldn't be lighter.

An entire summer break in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but wilderness around him; Ichigo had been looking forward to this for months. He'd be surrounded by thick, lush greenery and a lake so calm it could be mistaken for a mirror. It was the perfect setting for his muse, and he was confident that, when break was over, he'd be coming home with a spectacular senior project. Even now, he'd already received requests from two art galleries, one of which owned by the prestigious Kuchiki siblings, who were notorious in the industry for their harshly critical taste in art.

Even his father was slowly turning around, having finally accepted that his only son had more talent and interest in art than in the medical field. Lately, his old man had even started to attend the school's student art shows, and had failed to conceal the glint of pride in his eyes when he stood in front of Ichigo's booth. To Ichigo, that had been one of the happiest moment in his life. Nothing could beat having his family's support for something he was so passionate about.

Giving his sisters one final wave, Ichigo hopped into his car, and then he was off; his thoughts already on the destination that was waiting for him.

* * *

Ichigo killed the engine and stretched his tired limbs. The solo drive had been long, but just like all the other times, it was worth it. He took a long, deep breath, taking in the soothing scent of earth and trees, then he stepped out and surveyed his surroundings. The sun was just beginning to set, its dying rays casting a golden glow upon his already-vibrant hair. It was quiet here, something that he'd always appreciated.

Grabbing his bag from the trunk, Ichigo locked the car and slowly walked up to the cabin. At the front door, he bent down and lifted the well-worn door mat, revealing a single key, which he used to let himself in. He smiled at the familiar room. It hadn't changed much since his last visit; his oversized art easel still sat in front of the window, while cans of paint lined the wall next to it. That was his private little corner, a place that was sacred in his eyes.

Only one other person was allowed to step in front of that easel.

"You know, one day I'm going to accidentally kill you with my shotgun thinking you're an intruder."

Ichigo spun around at the deep voice, his eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of the tall, muscular figure leaning casually against the doorway that led into the kitchen. Without saying a word, Ichigo sauntered over to the man, his smile slowly widening as he met a pair of mischievous blue eyes.

"Well, hello to you too," Ichigo said, hands reaching out to circle the man's waist.

A low chuckle rumbled in the larger male's chest, and in an instant, Ichigo was yanked flush against him, their bodies melding together perfectly with familiar ease. Their lips met, tenderly and almost chastely at first. Then, as eyes slid closed and hands began to roam with less innocent intent, Ichigo deepened the kiss, immediately drawing a muffled growl from the older man.

"Mmm..." Ichigo pulled away slightly to nuzzle his lover's jawline. "I've missed you, Grimmjow."

* * *

_Four years ago..._

_"So, I guess this is farewell."_

_Ichigo thought he'd prepared himself for it. As long as Grimmjow would live, he was willing to accept anything. Yet, the pain that lanced through his heart when he heard those words nearly brought him to his knees. He tried hard to ignore the look of sympathy from the other men in the room, but it was impossible. Renji, the agent with the spiky red hair and ridiculous tattoos, even gasped out loud._

_The silence that followed was deafening, so thick with tension that everyone in the room seemed to have ceased breathing altogether. Everyone except Shinji, that is, whose smile remained as wide as ever throughout the exchange; and it was he who finally shattered the awkward moment._

_"It has been an honor serving with you, Jaegerjaques," the blonde said lightly._

_Grimmjow grinned in response, tipping his head at his superior._

Former _superior._

_It took Ichigo a whole minute to wrap his head around what this meant. And even when he did, all he managed was blink at Grimmjow and Shinji in surprise._

_Could it be? Could it be that Grimmjow would give this up this life and stay?_

_"But...why?" Ichigo stuttered, his heart hammering away in his chest. He daren't get his hopes too high just yet; he'd be crushed if he'd simply misunderstood._

_The look Grimmjow gave him sent all his blood rushing to his face. The dead weight in his stomach lifted, and his feet moving on their own accord, bringing him slowly over to Grimmjow's hospital cot._

_"Do you really have to ask?" Grimmjow growled with a scowl. He reached out and grasped Ichigo's hand in his bandaged ones._

_And then, ignoring the cat calls and shouts of "Get a room!", Grimmjow gave Ichigo the deepest, sweetest kiss he had ever gotten in his life._

* * *

The tub in the cabin's bathroom was small, but that never stopped them. If anything, the cramped space made it better, magnifying the sensation of their bare skin rubbing against each, their bodies slick with sweat, water, and soap suds.

Grimmjow groaned and tightened his grip on his lover's hips, his eyes feasting greedily on Ichigo's flushed cheeks and moist, kiss-swollen lips. The younger man dropped his head back and let out another moan, his lean frame trembling as he rose and sank in Grimmjow's lap almost frantically. They had wanted to take their time to savor the long-awaited moment, but the need that they'd both been bottling up inside overcame them.

"Beautiful," Grimmjow murmured, leaning forward to press his lips on Ichigo's neck and thrusting up roughly at the same time. "L-love you."

That was all it took for Ichigo to unravel completely. Grimmjow gritted his teeth as tight muscles clamped down on him, wrenching a loud groan from the back of his throat. He continued to move, even after he found his own release mere seconds later; his hands leaving the younger man's hips to wrap around him in an embrace, until Ichigo toppled forward to rest his forehead on top of his.

They continued to soak in the water for a few long minutes, both struggling to regain their breaths, before Grimmjow finally pushed Ichigo off of his chest.

"Okay, time to get clean for real," he chuckled, flicking a few specks of soapy water onto Ichigo's face. He grabbed the fist that came flying towards him, his laughter growing louder as Ichigo glowered at him. Then, he sat back and enjoyed the view as the younger man stood up and climbed over the side of the tub, dripping water everywhere as he wobbled over to the shower stall to wash properly.

Grimmjow sighed, truly feeling content for the first time in his life. Guilt and sadness still gnawed at him whenever he thought of Ilforte, but he had no regrets about the choice he made this time. Retirement suited him, though now and then he'd still take a job from Urahara's contacts, but they were nothing risky. Just a little snooping here and a little digging there, not entirely legal but hardly dangerous compared to what he'd done in the past.

He still remembered the wide, disbelieving eyes that stared at him when Shinji voiced his unspoken decision. Grimmjow wasn't surprised that the crazy bastard would see through him right away; Shinji wasn't top brass for nothing. He owed that man his life, and even though he felt just a tad bad for leaving the team so abruptly, Ichigo was worth it. Nnoitra had called him a sap, and Renji gave him a painful kick in the shin when he was finally well enough to leave the hospital, but in the end they'd all understood.

"Yo, old man!" Ichigo stuck his head out from the shower stall, a big grin plastered on his face. "Are you going to join me or sit there in my jizz the whole night?"

"Ugh, that's fucking gross you little shit!"

* * *

**The End.**

**I hope I got at least a couple of you snickering about the brief reference to Byakuya and Rukia's artistic talents. ;) As always, thank you all very, very much for following this story! Looking forward to writing a new story for you guys soon. :)**


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